Be My Valentine
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Roarke enlists some unusual help when he and Leslie host a large Valentine's Day party. Follows 'The Skeptics'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Happy Valentine's Day! This is just a little story I cooked up in an attempt to pair up some characters who were still single (no, seriously!). It's still in progress as I post this, so anything can still happen in the course of the story. So let me know what you think as it goes along…

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§ § § - February 2, 2007

It was very uncharacteristic of Roarke to repeatedly check the time, but he was doing it this morning; and at first Leslie thought it was just because it was a Friday and he wanted to be sure everything was done before the next morning's guests arrived. However, when he continued to do it for more than an hour, she finally cleared her throat and ventured to ask the obvious question. "Father, are you waiting for something?"

"Some_one_, more correctly," Roarke said, frowning at the grandfather clock. "Two of them, to be precise. And they are both late."

"When were they supposed to be here?" Leslie asked. "Maybe I could make a call or put out an alert or something."

"Not on these two," Roarke said darkly and shook his head at the clock. "Really, this is most impolite, not to mention unprofessional."

"I'm sorry, Roarke, but we got held up," said a male voice, and Leslie looked around to see a tall, trim, muscular and extremely handsome man, with dark wavy hair, brilliant blue eyes, flashing white teeth and an enviable tan, stride into the study through the open French shutters. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth. Behind him was what looked like an oversized cherub, clad only in a diaper and with a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder, madly flapping his wings to keep his chubby little body aloft and apace with his companion. Leslie stared at them.

"I've seen you guys before," she realized suddenly. It had been quite a few years, but that particular meeting was one she remembered nearly as vividly as the day it had taken place. "Eros and Cupid."

"That's us," chirped the cherub, beaming at her and coming in for a landing between the leather chairs in front of the desk. "Sorry we're late. I needed my quiver, and despite what my smug older brother here will tell you, it is _too_ his fault."

"It is not," Eros barked before Roarke interrupted him with a short, sharp throat-clearing. Eros cleared his own throat and smoothed his hair. "Pardon me, Roarke. We've already been around and around on the issue, and I'm fed up with it. So…not necessarily to change the subject, but what's the big emergency?"

"You are both well aware, of course, that Valentine's Day is less than two weeks away," Roarke said, getting emphatic nods from both visitors, "and as far back as late October, we had planned a party for the day, in order to bring together single people."

"Especially those who're having a hard time finding just the right someone," Leslie chimed in. "And in this day and age, there're plenty of them."

Roarke nodded. "Indeed there are. So I felt it wise to call upon your help."

"A party!" Cupid exclaimed happily. "I love a party, and Valentine's parties are the best ones of all. I'll be thrilled to help—but of course, you'll have to allow me some time to fashion more arrows."

Roarke smiled. "Of course," he agreed graciously.

Eros grinned a bit lasciviously. "Hmm, sounds like just my kind of scene. Maybe I'd better find some of my Hot Lovin' Specials and get them ready for that night."

"Try to be a little more subtle," Roarke said, sounding a little ominous. "I'm afraid you spend entirely too much time focusing on the physical aspects of a budding relationship and too little on the most important part."

Eros snorted disgustedly. "Oh, Roarke, as if I don't have enough problems, what with AIDS joining all the other usual suspects. Not, of course, that people seem to pay much more attention than they did before it came along back in the 80s. Still, having you put restrictions on my livelihood really rubs me the wrong way."

"Just try to restrain your enthusiasm, that's all I ask," Roarke suggested, and Eros let out a put-upon sigh but shrugged agreement. "And as for you, Cupid, please try not to repeat your mistake of a few years ago. At the very least, wait until two people seem to have a clear interest in each other before you fire an arrow in misjudgment."

"What mistake was that?" Eros wanted to know, looking intrigued.

Leslie and Roarke looked at each other, and Leslie smiled wryly. "He almost shot Elizabeth Taylor and Mickey Rooney when they happened to be here at the same time."

Eros laughed loudly. "That would've been poetic justice all right. What've they got, seventeen marriages between them? Maybe they've been looking for each other all these years and just never realized it. I wish you'd let him shoot them, Roarke. I'd have loved to see what would have happened."

"You forget that, among other things, Mr. Rooney's current marriage remains in force. That aside," Roarke said firmly, "we do have a few celebrity guests who plan to be in attendance, most notably Princes Paolono and Marcolo from Arcolos. Their father is beside himself by this time that neither of his sons has found even a steady girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has literally begged me to see to it that they both find someone at this party, so please, _please_—use the utmost discretion."

Cupid, still looking a little shamefaced about the Taylor-Rooney mixup, nodded complacently. "I promise, Roarke, I'll be extra-careful. Don't worry about a thing."

"With you, kid brother, there's always something to worry about," Eros cracked and grinned when Cupid glared at him. "So is the king looking to have his boys married off, or just paired up with attractive prospects?"

"Anything," Leslie said. "Errico said that if either, or both, of them get to the point of wanting to get married right away, we're to do it, no questions asked. So if they find some girl they seem to really like, by all means, shoot arrows."

Roarke raised a hand at her. "Don't be too hasty, Leslie. As you may recall, King Errico stressed that the young ladies must be suitable matches for the princes."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," Leslie said. "It's going to be a big party, and I've been told that lots of girls are coming who have hopes of being noticed by Paolono or Marcolo. There must be some who'd pass muster with Errico."

Cupid and Eros looked at each other. "How are we to know what that king would approve of?" Eros wanted to know. "Suppose one of the princes falls for some totally unsuitable girl? Then what?"

Leslie glanced at Roarke and offered, "You could consult with Father."

"This seems needlessly complicated," Roarke observed, "but if you feel that much trepidation in regard to the princes, then by all means, do so. As for the rest, however, just use your best discretion. After all, the ultimate goal of this party is for these young single people to find mates, and the more successes you have, the better."

"How big do you expect the turnout to be?" Eros asked.

"We have received nearly three hundred responses to the announcement Christian kindly placed for us on the island's website," Roarke told him.

Eros and Cupid looked at each other. "Wow," Cupid said. "Then maybe I'd better get to work right away making more arrows. Is there anything else you need us for? 'Cause if not, I'd really better get outa here and get started on them."

"As long as you have no further questions, by all means, go," Roarke said, and Cupid bobbed his head and took to the air with a flapping of wings that sounded like a flock of pigeons trying to gain altitude. Eros watched him go, then shook his head.

"Do you think I'll need some Hot Lovin' Specials?" he asked Roarke.

"If you feel that Cupid may need some help, then you might do well to bring a few of those," Roarke said. "Do you have any other questions?"

"No, I don't think so," Eros mused. "I suppose that'll do for now. Oh, wait—what time does this shindig start? I wouldn't want us to be late."

Roarke smiled. "No, that would never do. The party will begin at six o'clock sharp on the evening of the fourteenth, so I suggest that you and Cupid appear at least half an hour prior to that, so that we can go over anything you may not be clear about."

"Got it," Eros agreed. "Okay, Roarke, see you then. And Leslie…say, last time I saw you, you were waiting ever so patiently for your prince. How's that gone?"

"Oh, we've been married six years now and have triplets," Leslie said.

Eros blinked in amazement. "Triplets! That'll kill your love life faster than almost anything else I can think of. You and the prince need a Hot Lovin' Special or two?"

Leslie cleared her throat, feeling herself reddening. "Uh, no thanks…we, uh, we really don't…well, I mean, we're doing just fine in that department, thanks anyway."

Eros regarded her with a particular interest that made her squirm. "If it weren't for your prince, you'd be getting a lot of my attention. You're still pretty hot-looking." With a smirk, he sauntered out of the study.

Roarke chuckled, and Leslie rolled her eyes. "If I had enough clout, I'd sic Hera on him, her being the goddess of marriage and all that. She'd fix his little red wagon."

Laughing, Roarke patted her shoulder a few times. "I'll tell you a secret, Leslie: Eros is much more bark than bite. He prefers simpler conquests. Now, why don't you make a few phone calls and find out which of your friends have unattached siblings who may be interested in attending the party."

§ § § - February 12, 2007

Leslie's friends had gathered at the Enstad house just to catch up, and Ingrid had just served a couple of large, homemade _jordisk_-style pizzas along with batches of newly made _jordisk_ cherry seltzer. The pizzas had a wide range of toppings, including a few _jordiska_ ones that Leslie's friends had never seen before. "Who puts asparagus on pizza?" asked Camille in astonishment, staring at it. "Is it any good?"

"The people of Lilla Jordsö do, and I've tried it myself. It's not bad at all," Leslie said. "Give it a chance. And I think everybody'll love the cherry seltzer."

"Hits the spot," agreed Myeko, sipping some. "And hey, it's the right color for the holiday, being bright red and all." The girls laughed, and Ingrid nodded at Leslie's gesture and began portioning out pizza slices.

After a few minutes of sating their hunger and commenting on the various pizza toppings, Maureen focused on Leslie. "Okay," she said, "since we're all here by ourselves while our respective husbands are working on whatever strikes their fancy, and those of us who have preschoolers have been graciously relieved of responsibility temporarily, thanks to your Ingrid there—what exactly are we here for?"

"Just a get-together," Leslie said, "although I did want to mention something to you guys. You may or may not have known that there's going to be a huge Valentine's Day party on the island come Wednesday, and Christian and I are more or less obligated to be there."

"I bet Christian loves that," Lauren commented with a smirk. "Is this some sort of new annual institution or something?"

"I don't know yet. Father wants to see how it works out and then decide whether to have one every year. For the moment, though, this thing's going to be really big, so we thought it couldn't hurt to cull out some of your siblings who are still unattached and see if they're interested in coming."

"Well, that lets me out, being an only child," Tabitha kidded. She was due literally within hours, grossly swollen with pregnancy and looking very uncomfortable; in fact, the girls had learned that every time she sat or lay down, she had to have help getting back up. "I wish I could be there; it sounds like fun, and I love seeing people fall in love."

"Oh, so that's why you read all those sappy romances," Camille said, grinning.

"That's also why I read all those sappy romances," Myeko told her loftily, "except I like a little more spice in mine. Hey, Leslie, you never did read those bodice-rippers I lent you when you were pregnant, did you?" Only slightly sheepish, Leslie shook her head as they all laughed. "Well, anyway, I can volunteer two of 'em—Taro and Sayuri. Taro's ex is in rehab for her addiction to that weird drug, whatever it was called, and last he heard, he said she has no willpower at all and keeps relapsing. He's warned Stephanie, Noah and Tia not to hope for a reconciliation."

"Sorry to hear that," Maureen said. "Hey, how's Tia doing, anyway? I think she'll eventually be going to school with April and the triplets, won't she?"

"Yeah, they're all the same age," Myeko said. "Tia's fine. In fact, you'll never believe this, but she's already learning to read, and she won't even be three till summer. But the kid has a brain like you wouldn't believe. I hate to say it, but whatever that damn drug did to Iriata during her pregnancy with Tia, it benefited the hell outa the kid."

"There's no real proof that black lightning, or any of its side effects, is responsible for Tia's precocity," Leslie said uneasily. "Although I think if you mentioned it to Father, he'd be interested in hearing all about it." She let her thoughts stray for a moment; after a small surge in usage of black lightning had been reported a couple of summers before, he had done some investigating and discovered that the current ultimate source of the drug was the young wastrel husband of Marina LiSciola. These days, the drug made the news mostly for the periodic reports of Iriata Sese's relapses from rehabilitation. Since the woman was a former Miss Samoa, her exploits were still considered newsworthy.

"Well, whether it was the black lightning or not, she's still a prodigy, or at least sort of one," Myeko said. "I wish Dawn was like that. It's all she can do to write her own name."

"Give Dawn a chance," Maureen told her. "She's only in kindergarten, and she has plenty of time to find her niche."

"Right," Leslie agreed. "So Taro and Sayuri, huh? That's good, anybody else?"

"My sister Deborah," Lauren said. "She's gonna be thirty-eight this year and she's still as single as she ever was. I think she's finally ready to consider settling down, though. She gets a real kick out of hanging around Kevin, and he says she's his favorite auntie. And oh yeah…Brian's niece, Dania, is supposed to fly in on tomorrow's plane. She was planning a visit here anyway, but she moved the date up a few days so she could go to the party."

"Hey, speaking of Kevin, today's his birthday, isn't it?" Camille asked her cousin. "I hope you're planning something."

"Well, there's going to be a party this evening at my parents' house, so Brian can be there and we can give him his presents then. We'll just have birthday cake and ice cream for dessert. Leslie, I know Kevin and Tobias are good friends—do you suppose you or Christian could bring him over?"

"Oh, probably," Leslie agreed. "I'll mention it to Christian. So…anyone else?"

Camille grinned. "Jonathan and Julianne said they'll be going. I guess Jonathan's trying to get back into circulation after that breakup of his…" She paused long enough to flick a glance toward the kitchen, but Ingrid was nowhere in sight. "And Julianne's as bad as Deborah, except for being ten years younger." The girls laughed again. "Jonathan said something about their school friend Patrick Apacarr coming, too. I guess the kid's still single."

"No kidding," Leslie said, intrigued. "It'll be fun to see him. I haven't since he was a baby and Tattoo almost adopted him. I wonder if Thomas and Mary ever told him the story. I hope he does decide to show up."

"Hey, you never told us about that one," Camille said, surprised. "He hung out with Jonathan and Jeremy all the time when they were in school, all the way from kindergarten to their high-school graduation. We got used to seeing him around our house. So Tattoo was that close to adopting him, huh?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime," Leslie promised. "Well, good. I guess that's everybody, then."

"What about teenagers?" Myeko asked. "Alexander thinks the whole thing's a pile of dog poop—you know how boys are at his age, and he'll be fifteen soon—but Noelle insisted I ask you if there's an age restriction on the party."

"I think there should be one," Katsumi remarked. "My Haruko is sixteen and I am afraid she wish to go to this party also."

Leslie grinned. "We'll have a smaller party for teenagers next weekend. This one's strictly for adults, because they're serving alcoholic beverages. No need to worry, Katsumi and Myeko. Camille, I think you better make sure David has something constructive to do on Wednesday night."

"Yeah…he thinks being sixteen gives him license to act like an adult without the attendant responsibilities," Camille complained, rolling her eyes. "Ever since Mr. Roarke gave him that summer driving job last year, he's been so cocky he makes me want to snap his neck sometimes. Now he thinks he's old enough to do anything."

"Oh, something'll happen to burst his bubble quick enough," Maureen assured her. "Brianna had the same idea as Noelle—you know how thick those two are. I told her not to get her hopes up, but thanks for the idea about the teenagers' party, Leslie. If you need any chaperones, let Mr. Roarke know and I'll volunteer. I'm not handling any catering next weekend, so I've got time to supervise."

"I'll tell Father," Leslie said, nodding. "Thanks, Maureen. Well, then, I guess that settles it. Hey, I see you all liked the pizza."

"Yeah, that was decent," Myeko agreed. "Thanks for having us over, Leslie. It was just what I needed."

Tabitha sighed heavily. "Me too. I'll be more than happy to see this baby get born. To tell you the truth, I've been having a few weird twinges in my back all day, but that's it so far, and I'm starting to wish the kid would get a move on. I feel as if I should have given birth last month."

"You poor thing," said Maureen sympathetically. "I felt like that with both Brianna and April. How are Cristina and Ramón getting to school and back?" Cristina Ordoñez, a classmate of Camille's son Craig, was almost ten and a fourth-grader; her brother Ramón had just turned six and was in full-day kindergarten, as a classmate of Myeko's five-year-old daughter Dawn.

"Fernando takes them," Tabitha said. "He's hired a girl from the fishing village to fill in for me till the baby's born and I can get back to work."

"Well, you're not going back till the baby's a few weeks old at least, right?" Lauren asked, surprised. "I didn't go back till Kevin was a month old."

"And I was out till the triplets were over three months," Leslie put in.

"Oh, I'm planning to take it easy till summer," Tabitha said. "When school lets out, I'll go back to work. Cristina will be a big help with the baby."

"Good thing," said Leslie, nodding. "By then you'll probably be going crazy looking for a break from diapers and bottles. Christian's started teasing me occasionally about trying to have another baby, so we can maybe give Tobias a brother, but I've told him I've got all I want and I'm not interested. I think I'm afraid I'll wind up with sextuplets."

"He's not really serious, is he?" Maureen exclaimed through the others' laughter.

"I don't think so," Leslie said, grinning. "I guess he's just used to being one of four kids and thought it would be cute if we did too, but he's just being funny. I don't think he really wants to be a new father either, not when he's knocking on fifty's door."

"Oh yeah, next year's it, isn't it," Myeko said and grinned. "Considering who he is and the kind of milestone this is, I think we should start planning the party now."

"Only if you really want to put your life in jeopardy," Leslie warned, laughing.

Camille snorted good-naturedly. "Why should he care? Aside from how much he hates parties, I don't see why he'd complain. He looks damn good for a guy his age. I'd swear he was at least ten years younger. He must've gotten some really good DNA. Some people just have everything, don't they? Royal, rich, famous, and delicious-looking. What I want to know is what his faults are. Nobody can possibly be that perfect."

"Christian'll be the first to say the same thing," said Leslie, grinning. "Look, he's going to get back over here anytime, I'm sure, so we'd better change the subject before he finds out he's the big gossip topic at our little kaffeeklatsch here."

Her friends laughed and obliged. "I have a question," Katsumi said slowly. "You say this party is for people who have no one, and here they can find someone?" Leslie nodded, and the beautiful Japanese woman frowned. "It seems not so fair. You and Christian will be at this party. I think it would be nice if all of us could go also, even if we are married."

Leslie glanced around at her friends. "What do the rest of you think?"

"I wouldn't mind getting out," Maureen observed, sounding wistful. "We just never do anything. I mean, I don't want to say Grady's stodgy…but it never crosses his mind to ask me if I'd like to have an evening out, just the two of us. Brianna's more than old enough to be in charge of April for a while, so he doesn't have that excuse. I just think he's getting too set in his quiet ways, and I'm getting just a bit bored."

"Well, you have to expect that," Tabitha pointed out. "Grady's quite a bit older than you are, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he'll be 57 this year," Maureen admitted through a sigh. "Sometimes I think he's acting like an old man before he has any real reason to. I mean, come on—fifty-seven isn't exactly standing on death's threshold, you know. And it'd do him good to take me out dancing someplace. Give him some exercise."

Leslie giggled. "Even Christian wonders why he never seems to see Grady outside doing anything more than mowing the lawn on that riding mower of his. Well, I don't see any reason you couldn't all come if you want to. Who knows, Tabitha, if that baby hasn't gotten here by then, getting in some dancing might help jar the kid loose."

Christian walked in the door amid the girls' laughter and surveyed the group gathered around the coffee table, which as yet Ingrid hadn't cleared. "Must have been an exceptionally funny joke."

"Hi, Christian," they chorused, and Leslie arose to give him a kiss.

"I hear you're gonna be at Mr. Roarke's Valentine party Wednesday night," said Camille with a wicked little grin.

"Under duress," Christian quantified, rolling his eyes. "I don't know what his excuse is for insisting I be there. I'd had hopes of updating my family's website so that I could post those baby pictures Roald and Adriana finally sent me." Adriana had given birth in November to a boy who had been named Staffan Teodor Christian Lagnebring; Christian had asked why they'd chosen his name to be one of their son's, and Roald had told him they just wanted to pay him a little homage. "None of the others has done it yet," he had e-mailed, "and I figured you deserved something for sitting there answering all our stupid questions for the last three decades plus." Christian had burst out laughing and e-mailed his thanks for the honor.

"You can as easily do that this evening," Leslie chided him with a grin. "Don't tell me you were saving that just for Wednesday night." Christian hiked an eyebrow at her, but he didn't say anything, which made her friends laugh again. "So did everything at work go okay, then? You said something about a problem with a website."

"A quick conference took care of that," Christian said. "He had some ideas he wanted me to try out, so I agreed to do what I could with them. I hope there's some of that pizza left; I'm hungry."

"There's another one in the kitchen," Leslie told him, and he smiled at that and headed in that direction. She watched him go for a moment, then perched on the arm of the chair in which Katsumi sat. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah—what should we wear?" Myeko asked. "Is it formal?"

"Not really," Leslie said. "Just dress in your favorite dancing clothes. But one caveat: the color of the day is red, so try to wear something in that color."

Myeko smirked. "Aha. An excuse to go shopping. Anyone want to come?"

"I can't even go to the bathroom," Tabitha complained. "How can I go shopping?" They all laughed sympathetically, and she grinned back. "I could use a little help, if nobody minds. Thanks for the ride, Leslie."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § - February 14, 2007

"They should be here any moment," Roarke said, glancing at the grandfather clock, which showed about 5:25. "Is Leslie ready yet?"

Christian, sitting near the tea table across the room studying a printout of a computer program he'd spent the day trying to write, looked up curiously. "I'm sure she will be soon. Why do you ask?"

Roarke smiled. "It does take women a little longer, doesn't it?" Christian rolled his eyes, making his father-in-law laugh quietly. "I am waiting for…some assistants."

"I see," Christian replied and returned to his printout. He had been ready for the last fifteen or twenty minutes, having dressed in the one tuxedo he owned; he had conceded to the color scheme by borrowing a red bow tie and red cummerbund from Roarke's vast stock of costumes. Leslie had decided to look through the costumes as well, so neither Christian nor Roarke knew what she had chosen.

"Well, are we on time this time?" asked a voice, and Christian looked up again just as Leslie came down from the second floor. He saw his wife first, and his eyes widened with appreciation at sight of her scarlet gown before his gaze shifted to the newcomers and remained there as though glued.

"Indeed you are," Roarke said with approval. "And I thank you for coming."

"Ready for the party?" Leslie asked, crossing the room.

To Christian's consternation, Eros gaped at her and choked on an indrawn breath. "I didn't know you could look like that," he finally croaked, his eyeballs traveling up and down her length with enough speed to make them look as if they were bouncing.

Cupid, hovering in midair behind them, whacked his brother in the back of the head with the flat of one hand. "You idiot, for one thing, she's married, in case you forgot—and for another, the husband in question is standing right there getting ready to asphyxiate you."

Eros shot him a glare, then focused on Christian and cleared his throat, while Roarke and Leslie looked on with great amusement. "Ahh, so you're the vaunted Prince Christian. Good to meet you." He thrust out a tanned arm.

Christian took in the sight of the impossibly handsome, nearly naked man, and then eyed Roarke without moving to take the proffered hand. "Who is this?"

"May I present Eros, the Greek god of love," Roarke said obligingly, "and behind him is his brother Cupid, Roman god of the same."

"Pleased to meet you," Eros repeated with a slight edge to his voice, still holding out his hand. Christian stared at him for a second or two, unconsciously reaching out to shake hands, but unable to keep from frowning.

"Is that all you ever wear?" he asked. "A loincloth? In public?"

"Huh," said Cupid disgustedly, "he's got it easy. I have to flap around wearing this stupid diaper all the time." He blinked suddenly and turned to Roarke. "Say, Roarke, d'you think I could have a fantasy where I can change my image? This whole baby-with-wings thing is really bad for P.R."

"We can talk later, if you'd care to make an appointment," Roarke suggested, and Cupid nodded eagerly.

Christian thrust his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants and edged a little closer to his grinning wife. "What exactly are they doing here, Mr. Roarke? I mean…I realize they must have something to do with the holiday, but…"

"We're here to do our usual jobs, that's all," Cupid told him. "There're supposed to be a few hundred people at this bash of Roarke's, so he thought he could use a little help. So…ta-da! Here we are!"

Leslie's grin vanished abruptly as a thought entered her head. "Listen, you guys," she said a little urgently, "some of my friends are planning to come—and they're all married, so watch out who you shoot at. The last thing we want is a lot of mixups that could get me and Father into trouble, so if you see a wedding ring on someone's finger, for fate's sake don't even aim at them, let alone shoot."

"Gotcha," Cupid said amiably.

"That really isn't fair," Eros complained. "I brought a full dozen of my Hot Lovin' Specials so that some deserving couples could have an especially good night. Those are for carnal purposes, not for making people fall giddily in love, like my brother's arrows are. Just ask Roarke—singles and married couples alike are fair game for them." He glanced between her and Christian and suddenly leered.

Flustered, Leslie said, "I already told you, we don't need any help in that department."

This time it was Christian who grinned. "Ah, is that so, my Rose? I'm flattered."

Eros glanced back and forth between them and returned Christian's grin. "Y'know, Your Highness, for those who are doing well 'in that department'—to quote your wife—a Hot Lovin' Special can make it unforgettable."

Christian regarded him in interested silence long enough to make Leslie nervous, and Roarke chuckled. "I think that will be quite enough, Eros, if you don't mind. Now, if there are any other questions before we begin…"

"I have one," Christian said. "Are these two going to be in plain sight of all the guests? Because if they are, I really think they ought to…well, look less conspicuous."

"You mean get dressed, don't you?" Eros asked darkly, spearing him with the evil eye.

"I'll go for that, actually," Cupid said. "If you've got anything in my size, Roarke, I'd love a nice red tux."

"I think we can manage that," said Roarke, very amused. "Eros?"

"With all the things my goofy little brother could do wrong, all you can think about is putting clothes on us?" Eros demanded of Christian, who shrugged, undaunted. The god rolled his eyes and snorted at Roarke, "Oh, all right…but I'm not climbing into any monkey suit. I'll just settle for a nice pair of black slacks and maybe a red shirt."

"If I have to wear a tuxedo," Christian said, his tone as black as Eros' had been a moment before, "I daresay it's only fair that you do too."

"A suit and tie certainly won't hurt you," Roarke said to Eros.

"The tie could even be red," Leslie put in, hoping to smooth things over. "And take it from me, Eros—there are very few guys who don't look good in suits."

Eros thought this over, while Christian gave Leslie an affronted look and she retaliated with a _be quiet_ glance. After a moment Eros sighed. "Oh, all right, if you say so. To tell you the truth, I was hoping for a little action for myself tonight."

"Just leave my wife alone," Christian warned him, and Eros propped his fists on his hips and opened his mouth as if to blast him.

Roarke cut him off with a hasty, "I think you two had better change before you're all late for the party. Gentlemen, follow Leslie; she knows where the costumes are, and you should be able to find something suitable."

Christian watched Eros fall in step beside Leslie, and began to make an outraged protest; but Cupid winked at him. "I'll play chaperone," he whispered. "That brother of mine can be a notorious rake, and your wife looks especially pretty tonight. So I'll keep his mitts off her for you." Christian murmured his gratitude, watching Cupid flutter off in the others' wake before turning to Roarke.

"So, the Greek and Roman gods of love, hm?" he said, raising that brow again. "And why not the Norse god of love?"

"Because for one thing, that would be a goddess," Roarke said, his dark eyes twinkling when Christian's mouth dropped open. "Shame on you for not remembering that. And I am sorry to report that Freyja was unavailable."

"Oh," said Christian in a very soft voice, and without another word settled slowly into one of the leather chairs. Roarke grinned and took his own chair to wait for Leslie, Eros and Cupid to return.

In about fifteen minutes they came back, by which time there was less than ten minutes to go before the party began. Roarke drove his daughter, son-in-law and the two gods to the old opera house, where the party was to be held; it was the only venue big enough to hold all the expected guests. They slipped in through a back door normally used only by Roarke's staff, and Christian and Leslie both paused to survey the gaily decorated main room. A small orchestra was tuning up in one corner, and a DJ occupied a booth in another, sorting through CDs and making adjustments to the control board for the sound system. The orchestra was meant to provide music for the earlier hours of the party; at midnight, they would depart and the DJ would take over, providing music for anyone who wanted to stay past the so-called witching hour. At the back of the room was a series of tables arranged in a buffet, spanning the width of the room; the tables were all draped in holiday-themed cloths, alternating red with white hearts and white with red hearts. Several native girls manned the tables, waiting for the partygoers to dig in.

"It's quite a groaning board, isn't it," Christian commented, surveying the food. "No one should go hungry here tonight."

"Or thirsty either," Leslie said, gesturing toward the far wall where a bar had been set up. The pond restaurant's bartender had been tapped for his services, leaving his assistants to handle drink orders at the restaurant for the evening.

Roarke smiled at their remarks. "If everything goes well, we should be able to call this venture a success," he said, casting a sidelong glance at Eros and Cupid. The latter was whizzing around the room as fast as his wings could flap, checking out everything in sight, while the DJ, the orchestra, the bartender and the native girls stared at him in disbelief. Eros, on the other hand, looked much more normal, and was already the object of admiring stares from the native girls. Eros noticed and began to preen.

"Fate have mercy," Christian muttered, watching him. Leslie snickered.

Cupid zipped back to join them and this time delivered a neat little kick to the seat of his brother's pants. "Hey, you're here to do a job, not check out the ladies," he scolded.

"Mind your own business," Eros growled at him, but subsided anyway. "You're getting into your own trouble as it is, levitating all around the room like an oversized mosquito. Get your act together and try to be inconspicuous."

Cupid sighed and addressed Roarke. "Is there a nice cozy corner I can settle myself into, where I won't be too easily noticed and I'll have clear shots for my arrows?"

Roarke smiled and pointed at the door from the back room where they'd come in, which was situated in a small hallway that jutted out from the back wall and provided a platform well above the dance floor for Cupid to sit. Someone had arranged several enormous vases, crammed with roses and other red and white flowers, around the perimeter, and a couple of bunches of red Mylar balloons in the back. "You should find some space among those decorations."

"Oh, you'll fit right in, little brother," Eros said, smirking. "The little Valentine Cupid and all the pretty roses and the heart-shaped balloons."

"Shut up," Cupid warned him, "or I'll sabotage your plans for finding a willing female tonight." With that, he fluttered up to the roof of the little corridor and made himself comfortable. "This is nice up here. All I need is a drink and some munchies."

"Come down and help yourself anytime," Leslie said, and Cupid nodded his thanks. She glanced around the room and then at her watch. "Father, I think it's time."

"So it is," Roarke agreed, without bothering to consult a timepiece. "Well, then, Leslie and Christian, why don't you come with me and we will open the doors."

Roarke and Leslie each pulled open one of the double doors at the front of the room, then stepped out into the foyer where several young native men waited to take any wraps or tuxedo jackets the partygoers might want to doff for the duration, and pulled open the main entrance door. Roarke smiled broadly at the line of people patiently waiting to enter. "Good evening, everyone, and welcome," he said warmly, and with that stepped aside to allow the guests to begin filing inside.

Among the first dozen arrivals were Myeko and Nick. "Well, here we are," Myeko said cheerfully. She wore a red halter-top dress with a short, swirly skirt, and boasted red pumps on her feet. "Don't I look festive?"

"You sure do," Leslie agreed, grinning. "Have fun, you guys. Oh, hey, hold on a second. You're both wearing your wedding rings like I said this morning, right?"

"Yeah," said Nick as he and Myeko displayed their rings at her. "Why'd you specify that, anyway? I usually don't wear mine since I spend so much time with the animals out back, but Myeko made me put it on. So I'm curious as to why."

Unwilling to say anything about Cupid or Eros in front of him, Leslie managed to find a plausible excuse. "This party's primarily for single people, and I thought it'd be better if some folks didn't get the wrong idea about the married couples who're just here to have a good time. There're always a few roving eyes, you know."

Nick nodded, his mouth turning down in a sort of facial shrug. "Yeah, that's true. I gotcha. Well, thanks for inviting us. It's been a while since it was just me and Myeko with no kids hanging around."

"Yeah, and this is gonna be great," Myeko said with anticipation. "See you inside." She and Nick headed for the double doors, and Leslie grinned after them before turning her attention back to the new arrivals. As co-host with her father, she was obligated to remain out here till all the expected guests had arrived.

Christian, standing nearby deflecting the unexpected attentions of a visiting fellow _jordman_, managed to extricate himself and approached his wife with an audible sigh of relief. "I didn't think that would be so tedious."

"What would be?" Leslie asked curiously.

He half-smiled. "I was just talking with someone from Lilla Jordsö, a banker from Moraby. It was nice to speak _jordiska_ for a few minutes, but the topic of conversation was rather stultifying. I'm not particularly interested in whether Gabriella and parliament ought to pass a law requiring all bank tellers to take an accounting course in night school."

Leslie laughed. "I hope you suggested he e-mail his district rep. If that's all he can talk about, this party may turn out to be a failure as far as he's concerned."

"I thought so too," Christian admitted, chuckling. "Well, I see you succeeded in dragging Grady out of his lair." He addressed Maureen, who had just walked in with Grady.

"I had to promise him there wouldn't be any 80s songs here," Maureen said, casting a slightly nervous glance over her shoulder at her husband, who looked a bit disgruntled. "I hope there won't, for his sake."

"Grady, Grady, Grady…shame on you," Leslie scolded playfully. "There's nothing wrong with 80s songs. If they really bother you that much, then when one comes on, just go to the men's room or something."

"I'll probably spend half the evening in the men's room in that case," Grady griped, making Christian, Leslie and Maureen laugh. Then he shrugged and suddenly produced a crooked little grin. "Well, hell, it's Valentine's Day. I guess I can put up with it for one night a year in order to let my wife know I really do still love her, despite everything."

Amid their laughter, the Hardings consented to display their wedding rings at Leslie before moving on to the party. Already there was a song under way and Leslie could see some couples dancing in the main room. "Looks like we're off to a good start."

About ten minutes later Brian and Lauren arrived, accompanied by a very pretty young woman with pale blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. "You won't remember her," Brian said, "but she's been here before. This is my niece, Dania Branham. Dania, Prince Christian, Mr. Roarke, and his daughter, Leslie Enstad. She's a friend of Aunt Lauren's."

"I do remember you," Leslie said, very surprised that she did. "I think it's because now and then, Lauren mentions some of the doings of your family, Brian. You were here years ago, Dania, and you were just a kid then."

"Yeah, I was eleven," Dania said with a nod. "I'm twenty-three now. Graduated from college last year as a marine biologist, but I can't find a position and I've been stuck waiting tables at a posh restaurant in Evansville—that's where my mother and stepfather live. At least the tips are really good, otherwise I couldn't have afforded to come here."

"A marine biologist? Good for you!" Leslie said, impressed. "It's too bad you're not qualified to teach. The high school could use a good science teacher, and we put a certain emphasis on marine studies, being on an island in the middle of the Pacific."

Dania grinned. "Hey, if it meant I could find work, I'd jump in and get a teaching degree with no qualms at all. But for right now, I'm putting all that stuff aside so I can just have some fun tonight. I really need a break anyway."

"Yeah, poor kid, she looked like a ghost when she got off the plane yesterday morning, you should've seen her," Brian remarked with a grin, clapping Dania on the shoulder. "She's all ready for some sun, sand and surf."

"And some nice, available male prospects," Dania added with a wink at her uncle.

Brian rolled his eyes at Christian. "Rodney and Jenny told me to watch out for her. At this rate, I'll have to put her on a leash and tie her in the front yard."

They all laughed, and Christian and Leslie both wished Dania luck while Leslie checked to be sure Brian and Lauren were wearing their wedding rings. They moved on, and the Enstads turned back to welcoming newcomers, with Leslie keeping an eye out for more of her friends. They knew Fernando and Tabitha weren't coming, especially as Tabitha had finally given birth the day before. The Ordoñezes now had a second son whom they had named Rafael; even Fernando, who had seen any number of fat babies, had been impressed when he'd heard that Rafael had weighed ten pounds, five ounces.

"I just realized…I'm getting hungry," Christian remarked at one point when the steady inflow of partiers had trickled down a bit. "I hope they'll all get here soon. My feet are beginning to ache, and my stomach is getting impatient with me."

Roarke, standing on the other side of the door greeting guests from that point, overheard him and smiled. "It shouldn't be much longer now, Christian. In fact, I believe I can handle the remaining arrivals from this point, so why don't you and Leslie go inside and help yourselves to something to eat. And Leslie, don't forget what we discussed."

Leslie nodded. "Got it, Father. See you in a little while. Come on, my love."

Christian offered her his arm and she slipped hers through it while he asked, "What did you discuss?"

"Just the mechanics of keeping an eye on Cupid and Eros. We're not supposed to tell anybody they're here, of course." She peered across the room as she and Christian slipped inside, and grinned. "Well, look there. Cupid seems to have managed to fit right into the décor. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was a mannequin."

Christian laughed. "He does look like one at first glance. Do you suppose he's had a chance to shoot any of his arrows yet?"

"We'll see soon enough," Leslie observed, grinning again. "Come on, let's get something to eat. Now my stomach's yelling too."

"Hey, we finally made it," she heard a voice, and turned to see Camille with her husband Jimmy behind them.

"Oh, good. What've you got David doing?" Leslie asked curiously.

Jimmy sighed. "This is gonna be one heck of an expensive evening. We gave the kid fifty dollars and told him to order a pizza from the hotel restaurant and rent some videos in town, and to keep Craig and Robin out of trouble."

"Of course, we had to bribe him to stay with his brother and sister by telling him he could keep the change from the pizza and DVD rentals," Camille added dryly.

Christian and Leslie laughed. "You know you're raising a con man," Leslie teased, and Camille rolled her eyes.

"Don't I know it. I can't wait till he starts college. He'll have less influence on Craig, and my house might be a little quieter. Oh well, see you guys around."

"Wedding rings," Leslie reminded her quickly, and nodded in satisfaction when Jimmy and Camille showed off theirs. Like Nick, Jimmy wanted to know what for, and Leslie gave him the same explanation she'd given Nick before shooing them off toward the buffet tables. Christian watched them go, shaking his head and chuckling.

"Don't your friends ever get suspicious?" he asked. "After all, they've known you almost thirty years, and I seem to recall your telling me you used to regale them with stories of the previous weekend's fantasies every Monday at school."

"Yeah, well, they know about the vagaries of the business, but the guys know a lot less than the girls do. And Father suggested that since my friends know enough as it is, the less I tell them, the better. If they don't have to know about it, he said, then I shouldn't tell them. So our two helpers are just between you, me and Father."

"I guess I can manage that," Christian said playfully. "All right, let's get something to eat before it's gone, and then we may as well get on the dance floor for a little while. I expect it's the best way for you to see whether you're getting any results."

They wove their way through the still-thickening crowd to the buffets and loaded up plates, then stood near the end of the last table, absently eating while watching couples form and dance, then break up and re-form in other configurations. Four songs had played before they had finished eating; then Christian dropped his and Leslie's paper plates into the nearest garbage barrel and gestured at the floor. "Shall we dance?"

"I'd love to," she said, and with that they joined the dancers on the floor. After just a few minutes, Leslie was rewarded by the sight of _King's Castle_'s Damian Mullawney, dancing gracefully with a strikingly beautiful African-American woman who had arrived on the island the previous Sunday. "Oh, look, my love, I think we have one score already!"

"Do you know who he's with?" Christian asked with interest.

"That's Ariesa Williams from Burlington, Vermont. She was one of the respondees to the announcement you put on the island website. I'm sure she never thought she'd end up with Damian Mullawney."

"Everyone needs someone, my Rose," Christian reminded her gently, turning her head back till she faced him and then tilting her chin so that he could kiss her. "Not just me. And may I say you look stunning—you chose perfectly when you decided to wear that gown." It was a creation of watered silk, with sheer chiffon sleeves that ended in cuffs at the wrists, and a V-neck that made a perfect frame for Leslie's ruby heart necklace. Her shoes had just enough heel to add an inch or so to her height, bringing her a little closer to Christian's six-foot-three.

Leslie smiled at him. "You look pretty hot yourself, my love. I don't think we're going to need any of Eros' Hot Lovin' Specials tonight, do you?"

Christian threw his head back and shouted with laughter, turning nearby heads. "No, I guess you're right, we won't! Though I have to admit, I wonder what sort of effect it would have if we did try one."

"Oh no you don't," Leslie retorted, and they whirled around the dance floor, teasing each other and laughing frequently. Many of the guests noticed them and watched for a moment or two here and there; some were outright envious, wishing for what the Enstads had together. One of those was Jonathan Ichino, who'd been helplessly searching the crowd for some glimpse of Christian and Leslie's nanny, Ingrid.

His sister Julianne, standing beside him and yet to find anyone who appealed to her, elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey!" he protested, flinching aside.

"I know what you're doing, you dork," she shot back, "so cut it out. I don't know how many girls must be here looking for a nice guy, and there you are searching for someone who refused your marriage proposal and decided to move on. You really need to do the same."

Jonathan grunted. "I don't see you out there hunting down some guy. Neither one of us is gonna find anybody tonight if we don't split up. And besides, what's that say about us, that the only people we seem to be hanging out with are each other—brother and sister?"

Julianne considered that for a couple of seconds, then made a face. "You've got a point there. Sounds a little incestuous, almost, doesn't it? Well, okay, I'm going off to the buffet and see who might be hanging around over there. You look around the walls here—and quit trying to locate Ingrid. She's _so_ over you, you know." As a parting shot, she poked him in the shoulder before wading off into the dancing throngs.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Jonathan muttered, scanning the bobbing heads on the dance floor one more time in spite of himself. Finally he gave himself a mental kick in the butt and began to wander along the perimeter of the room, letting his eyes roam over small groups of people standing around talking, eating or watching the dancers. He had made it almost to the DJ's booth when he spotted a pretty blonde loitering there by herself, leaning against the front wall of the booth and gazing out at the dancers. She looked somewhat like Ingrid, which drew Jonathan right in. As if magnetized, he drifted over to her. "Hi."

She blinked and peered at him. "Oh, hi there."

_Well,_ Jonathan considered, _at least she speaks English. Might be a much better start than I remember having with Ingrid._ "I'm surprised you're not out there dancing."

The girl shrugged. "Well, nobody's asked me yet, and I never liked playing Sadie Hawkins, you know what I mean?"

Jonathan laughed. "Yeah, I think I do. Well, you feel like dancing? I just ate and I need to work it off."

"Sure, that's as good an excuse to dance as any," she agreed, laughing.

"Great. I'm Jonathan Ichino," he said, offering his hand.

She took it. "My name's Dania Branham. Nice to meet you."

"Same here." Jonathan and Dania found a spot on the floor to blend in with the other couples and began to sway to the music. "You from this island?"

"No, but I've been here once before, when I was eleven. My mother won a trip here on a game show, and she brought me and my aunt Tara and my uncle Brian with her. It was great—I really loved the amusement park. Hey, is something wrong?"

"Game show?" Jonathan repeated, blinking. "Hey, my cousin met her husband when his sister brought him here on a trip she won on a game show."

"Oh yeah? What's your cousin's name?" Dania asked curiously.

"Lauren. You said your uncle's name is Brian?"

"Yup…oh my God. Don't tell me. My aunt Lauren is your cousin?"

"Right in one," Jonathan said and groaned, half laughing. "Crap, I think we're related. Doesn't that just suck?"

Dania snickered. "Hey, don't sweat it. If we're related, it's only by marriage. So I guess that means you're a native of this island."

"Yup, born and raised all right. You here by yourself, or with family?"

"Just me. I'm an unemployed marine biologist, currently working as a waitress in a really fancy restaurant. I'm originally from Oregon but living in Indiana after my mother got remarried. Twenty-three years old and have two half-brothers. You?"

"Almost twenty-eight, an accountant with Prince Christian's Enstad Computer Services…employed, fortunately. Two brothers and four sisters—two of the sisters and one of the brothers make up a set of quads, along with me. Parents are still married, mostly happily, and spoiling the living daylights out of approximately ten grandchildren."

"Wow, you're a quadruplet? That must be a pain sometimes," Dania commented, eyes wide with amazement.

Jonathan laughed. "Occasionally, mostly when my sister Julianne bugs me. She and I are the only two single kids left in the family. But we were famous for a while as babies; my parents still have videotaped footage of assorted news reports, plus a big fat scrapbook full of articles and pictures from publications around the world. Trouble is, it's been so long since then that we haven't been able to trade on that notoriety since we were in about fifth grade or so."

"Oh, that's a cheat," Dania said with mock indignation. "What good's being a quad if you can't take advantage of it?" Jonathan laughed again, realizing that already he really liked this girl. "So if you're almost 28, when's the birthday?"

"April 10. When's yours?"

"I'll be 24 on August 22. Oops." Dania stopped dancing, and Jonathan realized only then that the music had stopped. They paused while the orchestra leader announced a short break, then looked at each other. "Well," Dania said, "you hungry?"

"I could eat," Jonathan said. "I got a look at the buffet when I came in, and it's gigantic. If we go hungry after this thing's over, it won't be anybody's fault but our own."

"That's for sure," Dania agreed, grinning. "So let's get over there before too much of it disappears on us." Jonathan grinned back, and from nowhere he offered her his arm, in an old-fashioned gesture he wasn't sure he'd ever used on a girl before—not even Ingrid. He vaguely wondered why as he escorted Dania over to the buffet.

Just at that same moment, Leslie happened to catch a movement in her peripheral vision and stopped moving. Christian promptly froze as well. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah…" she murmured, her gaze zeroing in on the decorated hallway that jutted into the room from the back. Sure enough, Cupid had gotten to his feet and was leaning over the flowerpots in front of him, arrow notched into his bow; even as she focused on him, he let fly, grinning maniacally. His expression made Leslie laugh, and she gestured in Cupid's direction, just in time for Christian to catch Cupid's face before the little god sequestered himself back into his hiding place.

"Uh-oh, seems like Cupid managed to shoot some poor unsuspecting slob or two," the prince observed lightly.

"Hey, that's a good thing," she reminded him, and he chuckled and gathered her into a hug. Leslie smiled, nestling into his embrace and wondering who'd been the beneficiaries of that first arrow.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § - February 14, 2007

With the orchestra on break, people began clustering around Christian and Leslie, many just to comment on how they'd looked together on the dance floor; some even asked Christian for autographs, though Leslie got only one such request—the _jordisk_ banker Christian had earlier mentioned talking to. It was a relief to them both when Brian and Lauren wormed their way through the knot of people surrounding them.

"Hey," Lauren said, making Leslie brighten, "I just noticed Dania dancing with Jonathan a little while ago. It looked like they were getting along pretty well, and that's a relief to both me and Brian—but have you seen my sister anywhere?"

Christian and Leslie both shook their heads. "But I wouldn't worry about it," Leslie said. "It's a big crowd, so don't be too surprised if you don't see her till tomorrow."

"I was afraid of that," Lauren admitted good-naturedly. "I just hope she finds somebody. I mean…she's not too old to have kids yet, and my parents want more grandchildren."

"What about Adrian? I thought he was married," Leslie said.

"He is, but they're having some troubles, and Maddy's already had one miscarriage," Lauren explained. "They're in marriage counseling over at the Air Force base. I'm not sure what their big problem is, but it seems to be a pretty big one, so I hope they pull through. In the meantime, my parents have been eyeballing Deborah for the past couple years, hoping she'll decide being single isn't everything it's cracked up to be after all."

"If it's going to happen, it will," Christian assured her. "And consider it—the chances are probably as good as they'll ever get, right here and now. It's Valentine's Day, this is a party full of single people, and…well, what else could you ask?"

"Maybe some intervention from Mr. Roarke and a love potion or two," Lauren hinted, making the Enstads laugh. "Oops, I think you've got some more visitors. We'll get back to hunting down Deborah. See you guys later."

Christian and Leslie waved after them, but they had no time to do more than glance at each other before a pretty sandy-blonde woman appeared on the arm of a dark-haired man decked out in an even fancier tuxedo than Christian's. "Mrs. Enstad—boy, am I glad I found you," the woman said eagerly. "I just wanted to say thanks to you and Mr. Roarke for thinking up this party. I was starting to think I'd never find a guy who doesn't care about my having a famous brother."

"Famous brother?" Christian echoed.

The woman nodded. "My name's Cindy Heldt—my brother's Magne Heldt, the guitarist in Midnight Sun." Christian nodded comprehension. "For years and years it's gotten in the way of my finding somebody decent. Anytime I met anybody, they eventually found out, and they always wanted to meet my brother and couldn't care less about me."

"Oh?" Leslie prompted in surprise.

"My friends in school used to do that to me too," Cindy admitted, "and most of the guys seemed to be aspiring musicians and figured that if I could just get them a quick meeting with Magne, he'd be overwhelmed by their raw talent and insist on helping them launch a big, stellar rock-star career. Well, not this one." She proudly indicated the man at her side. "This is Chase Damerow from Albany, New York—not too far from where I was born. He's interested in me, not my brother or his group. It's hard to believe it's taken me all this time to find a guy like that, but I finally did!"

"Well, congratulations to you both," Leslie said, beaming. "It's always great for us when we see couples get together. You look really good together."

"I feel really good with Cindy," said Chase Damerow with a broad smile. "It doesn't matter to me who her brother is. To tell the truth, I've never been into pop music anyway, so I'd never really heard of Midnight Sun, much less Cindy's brother. You should've seen the look on her face when I drew a blank on Magne Heldt's name."

Christian, Leslie and Cindy laughed, and Cindy squeezed Chase's hand. "He went to the same elementary school I did, and had a lot of my old teachers too. We've been connecting on that level, comparing people we used to know, and it just took off from there. I can't wait to find out where it all goes from here."

"Just give it the proper chance to develop," Leslie advised. "This is an especially romantic atmosphere, and tonight it seems like anything's possible. So don't let yourselves be fooled by that. If you've got a solid foundation, it'll survive the light of day, and then the sky's the limit, as they say. So I wish you both the best of luck."

Chase and Cindy both thanked her and headed off toward the buffet, and Leslie let out a sigh of contentment. "I think this party's going to be a real smash."

"It looks that way," Christian agreed. "Oh, here comes another couple."

This time the pair were both dark; the woman appeared to be at least part Asian, with straight mahogany-brown hair, and the man was clearly a native islander, though he was clad in black slacks and a red shirt. He had curly black hair and large dark eyes that struck a cord somewhere inside Leslie. But before she could say anything, the young man paused in front of her and ventured eagerly, "You're Leslie, right?"

"Yeah," she said, awaiting the revelation.

"I'm Patrick," he told her. "Patrick Apacarr."

"_You're_ Patrick!" she burst out, delighted. "Wow, it's great to see you here! The last time I saw you, you were a four-month-old baby on your way to the other side of the island with your new adoptive parents."

Patrick laughed. "I heard the story a lot as I was growing up," he said, "not just from Mom and Dad, but from my brother Kiko too. They used to tell me that Mr. Roarke's old assistant Tattoo almost adopted me because he knew my birth mom. I wondered a hundred times what Tattoo was like and why he was so partial to me."

"Father explained it to me once when I asked the same question," Leslie told him. "It seems Tattoo connected with Alicia, your birth mother, because she'd lived in Paris for a few years as a little girl, and Paris was Tattoo's hometown. They used to talk a lot about their memories of that area. I guess from that, they became friends, and Tattoo always had a soft spot for her. So when you were orphaned and brought back to Fantasy Island, he had an awful time accepting Alicia's death, and was going to take care of you himself, till he realized you'd be better off with two parents and some siblings. It almost killed him to let you go, but he was too fond of you, and Alicia, to deprive you of all the things he thought you deserved—the ones that he felt really mattered."

"No kidding," Patrick said with interest, surprising Leslie, who had thought there couldn't be any way she could give him a new slant on a story he evidently knew so well. "So that's why he didn't keep me. Sometimes I wondered what it would've been like to grow up as Tattoo's son. Didn't he get married later on?"

"Yes, to a wonderful lady named Solange. Their first child was a boy, and he was named Patrick after you. So you see, Tattoo never forgot about you."

Patrick grinned. "That's great to hear. I was sorry to read about his death. Made me wish I could have met him sometime. I thought I'd go ahead and come to this party just to take the chance to talk to somebody who knew him—didn't matter to me if it was you or Mr. Roarke. How old were you when I came back?"

"Fourteen," she replied. "You were the cutest little kid. I always figured, after Tattoo turned you over to Mary and Thomas, that I'd hear about you from time to time, since I know Camille Ichino, and you were friends with her brothers Jonathan and Jeremy."

"Yup. We were pretty tight all through school; they were my best friends for years. They've been picking on me about finding a nice girl, but I see Jonathan hasn't exactly settled down to married life either."

"Not for lack of trying," Christian observed dryly. "He recently suffered a breakup with our nanny, Ingrid, so he's somewhere in this crowd, and with any luck he's found someone to get his mind off her. She has her head very much elsewhere."

"Yeah, that's what I heard from Jeremy. Well, hey, it was really great to meet you finally, Leslie. And say, I didn't think I'd find anybody here, but one look at Kerstin here and I just sort of fell. This is Kerstin Sakamori."

Leslie shook hands with the young woman, who smiled and offered a curtsy and an accented, "Hello, Your Highness."

Christian went on alert. "Where do you come from?" he asked.

Kerstin blushed and smiled. "I am Swedish," she explained. "My mother is Jillian Kristen—she used to be in the old group Swedenstar. My father is a roadie she met when the group was touring Japan, and he moved to Sweden and they were married there. I have five brothers and sisters, and since my mother has been retired for years and is a housewife now, I wanted more excitement in my life. So my parents allowed me to come here for a vacation. I really didn't think I would meet anyone, but Patrick is the very nicest man."

Christian and Leslie laughed, wished them both luck and waved them off. "I wonder, if they make a complete success out of their relationship, whether she'll stay here, or he'll pack up and move," Christian speculated. "I'd say she stays with him."

"That'd be my bet, too," Leslie said and smiled. _"If_ they stick together, that is. Sometimes the romantic atmosphere around here produces some really unlikely matches."

"You mean like you and me?" Christian teased, and she snorted, playfully swatting him and chuckling. "Well…speaking of unlikely matches—" His voice trailed off and he stared at something beyond her, and she turned to look. Roarke was clearly visible some distance down the buffet line, handing a filled plate to a woman who looked to be somewhere in her fifties or sixties.

"Oh," Leslie said with a laugh, "that's just Father displaying his hospitality. Did you really think he was going to just stand around watching people pair off?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but this is…I don't know, to me it just looks different," Christian said hesitantly, still gazing at Roarke and his companion. "He seems…unusually solicitous, if you get my meaning."

Leslie peered closely at them, tipping forward a little as if that would help her figure out what Christian thought was so significant about them; but just then Sayuri Sensei, Myeko's younger sister, emerged from the crowd in the company of a handsome Japanese man, her face alight, and Leslie's vision of her father was blocked. "Hey, Leslie, this party's really working out!" she exulted. "I actually found someone!"

"Good for you!" Leslie said, switching modes as quickly as years of training in her father's business would allow. "Introduce me, then."

Sayuri giggled. "This is Ryo Nakashima, from Nagoya, Japan. He's a businessman who travels a lot between Japan and California for his job, and his English is flawless."

"She compliments me effusively," Nakashima remarked smilingly, as he shook hands with both Christian and Leslie. "But she is sincere and very sweet, and I like her very much. I am very glad to have met her."

"I'm glad you're enjoying the party, Nakashima-san," Leslie replied with a warm smile. The Japanese man brightened at her use of a term familiar to him, and bowed in response. "Please help yourself to any food you like, and continue to have a wonderful time."

"I am grateful, Your Highness," he said, then smiled at Sayuri and gestured to the buffet. "Excuse us, please, I believe Sayuri is hungry."

"Starving," Sayuri agreed, "and everything looks delicious. See you later!"

Just as they left, Kazuo and Katsumi Miyamoto appeared, and Christian chuckled. "So they talked you out of the hotel kitchen after all, did they?"

Kazuo grinned. " 'They' didn't—my wife did. She complained that we haven't had a good evening out in years, and that Haruko was perfectly capable of managing things on her own with Chikako and your triplets, so I agreed." He noticed their attire and his grin got bigger. "Well, look at you, Leslie. I never see you in anything but that white outfit you wear when you and Mr. Roarke are working, so I wasn't sure it was you."

"You don't come around often enough, that's what your problem is," she teased him, and they laughed.

Katsumi spoke up. "I wonder sometimes, Leslie. How did you get the white dress? I know that you wanted to look more like Mr. Roarke and Tattoo when you worked with them, but…I think it would be nice to hear your story."

"Oh, that. Well, Father had to take me on a shopping trip for clothes the Monday after I first came to the island. We had quite a little walking tour of the pedestrian shopping district, and I was feeling a little grubby since I had only one set of clothes and hadn't had a chance to clean them. I was amazed when he pretty much let me choose whatever I wanted as far as clothes went. I had an idea of what was fashionable and I also had ideas of what I liked, style-wise, so I chose enough outfits to wear something different every day for about two weeks. He also insisted I choose two new sets of pajamas, and I got packages of socks and underclothes, and a pair each of sneakers, good shoes for school, and slippers. He told me my birthday would be coming up within a couple of months and I'd probably get more clothes then, if that was okay with me.

"So I had all these nice new clothes, and I wasn't really used to brand-new clothes. My birth father was so miserly with my sisters and me, I'd been used to getting my things from Goodwill and other thrift stores. So having something totally new was a shock to the system, of sorts. Anyway, in with all these new things were some sundresses. I always used to have a thing for sundresses, but up till then, somehow we could never find any in the thrift stores that were my size. So I went a little crazy on those and got four of them in different pastel colors—pink, aqua, yellow and lavender. And the first weekend Father and Tattoo said I could come to the plane dock with them, I wore the aqua one, and I felt like a real fashion plate for the first time in my life."

"You must have," Christian agreed, listening as avidly as Kazuo and Katsumi were. "But I gather that eventually, the dresses failed to satisfy."

Leslie laughed. "Something like that. Oh, I still loved them, and I wore them to school a lot and especially in the summer, till I outgrew them…and you can believe that was a disappointment. But I began to notice that when I stood next to Father and Tattoo at the plane dock, I stood out. The dresses themselves were stylish enough, but compared to the suits they wore, I looked too casual. That was my feeling, anyway. I thought, if I was really going to look like I was part of their operation—no matter how small—I needed something more formal, and preferably in white, to match their outfits. I thought about it a lot during that summer and fall, and about the time I started ninth grade, I had a few design ideas that I'd drawn out on notebook paper. This was the late 70s, of course, so polyester was still way in, but I'd given it a lot of thought and I wanted cotton clothing to help keep me cool in this climate. So when I talked to Father about it, at first he looked amused, but then he realized I was serious and treated me accordingly."

"And he got you new clothes just exactly then," Katsumi guessed.

Leslie grinned a little sheepishly. "No, not just then. He suggested I give him my drawings, so I did, and after that I never saw them again. He didn't mention them again, and in fact I somehow forgot about them. I'd managed to save enough money to buy myself a couple of white sundresses at the end of that summer, so at least I fit into the color scheme. My school shoes were black, so I figured that would provide the touch of black that Father and Tattoo had in their ties and handkerchiefs. That was what I wore every weekend till Christmas—when Father presented me with three dresses, all alike, white trimmed with black. He even gave me two pairs of white shoes to go with them. The first weekend I wore one of them, I got a compliment from a guest on how pretty I looked. That clinched it for me, and ever since then I've worn an outfit that complements Father's."

"Oh, I see," Katsumi murmured. "Mr. Roarke was very kind to you in those first days. I think you are fortunate to be his daughter."

"I know I am," Leslie said softly, and Christian smiled and slid his arm around her.

"Well, now you know the story," he told Katsumi, who grinned. "Another great mystery solved. Now if you're hungry, you might take a look around the buffet, before the orchestra decides to end its break." The Miyamotos laughed and nodded, then moved along to the buffet tables, giving Christian and Leslie another chance to get a look at Roarke. This time he had a hand on the arm of the same woman he'd given a plate to; she was gazing at him with avid interest as he spoke to her. "Hm, the game's afoot," murmured Christian.

"Only in your head, my love," Leslie said indulgently. "She must have had a very involved question of some sort."

Christian sighed patiently. "Leslie, look at his face. Tell me, would you expect anyone to look like that when he's merely answering a question?"

Leslie frowned and peered at Roarke; he looked as if the focus of his whole world was this one woman. She felt a queasy fluttering in her stomach: Christian was right, for there was a particular look about him that suggested he had more of an interest in her than merely that of a dedicated host toward a guest. "Oh," she mumbled.

"Mm-hmm," he agreed, still watching them. "You don't suppose…"

Leslie shuddered hard enough for him to notice. "Please, let's not talk about that right now. I don't want to spoil the evening."

"Spoil it?" Christian repeated in amazement. "If your father's developed an interest in a nice woman, why would that spoil your good time?"

"Because Father doesn't seem to be meant to be attached to a woman, not for very long at least. I've told you about Helena. I don't know about his love life prior to her, but since he's never had children, it stands to reason that he must not have been able to maintain a relationship long enough to get a family started. But I'm going on what I remember witnessing since I came here. His loss of Helena really crippled us emotionally for a while and it took a long time to get over it. He still loves her very much, even though she's been dead for going on thirty years. And then, of course, there was that witch Paola LiSciola and her crafty manipulations. I told you about that."

"Ah yes, that's right, I remember that e-mail you sent me explaining about her. But who's to say that history will repeat itself?"

"I just don't feel right about this. Maybe it's those past experiences talking, but something about this just makes me nauseated. It might be a good time to try to nip this thing in the bud."

"I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate your interference," Christian warned.

Leslie stilled, staring at Roarke, and frowned again. "I don't know…" she murmured helplessly. "I just don't like it, that's all I know."

Christian shook his head and turned her back toward the dance floor; the orchestra could be heard to be tuning up again, and the floor was filling with people anticipating the next dance. "Don't worry about it right now, my Rose. Just come out onto the floor with me, and who knows, you may be contacted by more very happy couples."

He was right about that too; several people came up to them to let her know that the party had been a success for them in their quest to find someone. Leslie had long since lost track of how many couples had formed by now; but since Christian had forced her to really take notice of Roarke, she was a little surprised that these same people hadn't gone to him to crow of their success. Maybe that was because he was just too busy with that woman, and they'd seen it…


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - February 14, 2007

Julianne had had less luck than her brother in her search for someone unattached to dance with. She had brazenly plowed across the dance floor, weaving her way among the couples, heading for the far side of the room where she thought maybe the wallflowers would be hiding. She'd been right about that, but to her chagrin, nearly all the wallflowers in question were female. A few of them were former classmates of hers, but none she had really been friends with, so she just smiled and waved and kept on moving. When she'd made it all the way from one end of the wall to the other without seeing any likely prospects, she blew out a breath and began to plod back toward the front end of the room where the orchestra was situated.

One of her erstwhile classmates snagged her along the way and insisted on a long catch-up session, which kept Julianne busy for perhaps half an hour before she extricated herself by pleading hunger. The buffet looked very inviting right about now, and she was determined to see if anyone was there who might prefer eating to dancing. This turned out to be true, but she was foiled again by the fact that most of those who were eating were part of a couple. Another former classmate of hers stood behind the buffet and stared at her in surprise as she began to fill a plate. "Julianne Ichino?"

Julianne looked up and barely restrained a groan. She couldn't remember his name off the top of her head, but she did remember his face—and she had learned at the last reunion of the Fantasy Island High School class of 1997 that this guy had already been divorced twice and had two children by each ex-wife. It was a firm policy of hers never to date a man with kids; she had heard too many horror stories of potential and actual stepmothers being tortured beyond imagination by angry, vengeful offspring. She wondered briefly if that might have been what had driven off the guy's second wife, but nodded anyway and said a brief hello. "Nice to see you," she added for good measure. After all, her mother had always taught her to be polite.

"I didn't think you'd be here," her classmate said curiously. "I mean…you and Jennette were always so popular back in school, I figured you'd never be hurting for dates."

"Not too many prospects on a small island like this," Julianne said, "not that I'd move away like Jennette did. But I figured if I was ever gonna find someone, this'd be the place."

Her classmate grinned. "Well, listen, if you strike out here, let me know and we could go out sometime, huh?"

"Oh…yeah, sure. If I don't find anyone," Julianne said, edging away from him on the pretext of looking for another tasty dish. "See ya around." The offer made her determined to find someone this evening or die trying.

Having filled her plate, she retired to the end of the buffet tables, looking idly on while others came along after her. She noticed Christian and Leslie emerge from the dancers once the orchestra announced its break, and watched for a while as couple after couple came up to talk to Leslie, all of them looking quite happy and satisfied. By the time Julianne had finished what was on her plate, she was so envious that she could no longer remember a single thing she'd eaten. Disgusted, she dumped her plate and plastic fork in the nearby garbage barrel and peered around the room again, wondering who the impossibly good-looking guy in the suit with the red tie was. He was standing a few feet behind Christian and Leslie, talking to a woman who looked like one of those anorexic runway models; he had wavy dark hair, flashing blue eyes, tanned skin and teeth too white to be real. Julianne decided he was probably some semi-famous actor, which undoubtedly would make him too full of himself for her taste, and let her eyes roam the room in general. Before long she was scanning the rafters, which was how she noticed the doorway jutting out of the back wall and all the flowers and balloons atop it—and what crouched among them.

"You gotta be kidding," she breathed. "Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie actually went that far? I wonder how much they're paying that midget."

"What midget's that?" asked a male voice from very close behind her, and Julianne jumped about a foot before whipping around to see who had spoken. The man there looked to be around her own age or thereabouts, and had straight silver-blond hair that just brushed his shoulders in the back, green eyes, and a slightly crooked grin that endeared him to her right away. It made her smile back at him.

"That midget up there," she said, gesturing to the doorway. Her companion peered up and chuckled.

"Oh, that one. I'm surprised they found a guy willing to play the part. Now that I think about it, I wonder what they're paying him too. I bet it's a mint. Undoubtedly more than I'm getting for this gig."

"What part are you playing?" she asked, surprised. He was casually dressed, wearing a white shirt with red lapels and a red pocket flap on the front, along with jeans and crimson sneakers. "You don't look like an actor to me."

He laughed. "I'm not. I'm the DJ—I'll take over at midnight after the orchestra leaves. Till then I'm free to do my own thing, and I figured I'd better get some food now while the getting's good. You eaten yet?"

Julianne was sorry to have to tell him she had. "But I haven't had dessert," she added suddenly, seizing on this insignificant detail. As long as he seemed interested in her, she wasn't about to discourage him; she liked his looks. "And I saw some really heavenly-looking brownies over there, if I remember right."

"Hey, that sounds great. I'm partial to brownies—the gooier, the better. Come on and help me pick out some proper supper before I gorge myself on the dessert." He grinned at her, and again she grinned back.

"Be glad to. By the way, my name's Julianne Ichino," she said, offering a hand.

"Adam Ryerson," he replied, shaking it. "Glad to meet you. Well, how about it?"

She nodded and accompanied him to the front of the line, edging alongside him and pointing out items she thought he might like. As they moved, they talked. "You live here on the island?" Julianne asked.

"Just got hired at the radio station," Adam said, nodding. "Since I'm low man on the totem pole, I have the late shift—seven to midnight. Matter of fact, I'm so new I don't even start till next Monday. Originally I'm from Nantucket, Massachusetts. I have ancestry going back there as far as the _Mayflower_, and I've still got extended family on the island."

"Nantucket, really?" Julianne asked in surprise. "So you're an islander too—and you know how insular islanders can get sometimes. And it's harder to get off Fantasy Island than Nantucket, let me tell you. The charter flight to Hawaii is only fifty bucks round trip for island residents, but I don't always have the kind of money I need to make a trip like that worth my while. My sister Jennette lives on Kauai, but the charter goes to Honolulu, so I have to have extra money for the additional flight to Kauai."

"I know what you mean," Adam said, nodding. "For us, we gotta hop the ferry to Woods Hole or Hyannis, or we take a quick ten-minute flight to New Bedford or something. They don't allow McDonald's on the islands, so I didn't even taste my first fast food till my first trip to the Cape for my sixth birthday. We were visiting my grandmother in Barnstable and she thought it'd be fun to have a McDonald's party for me."

"I hope you didn't get hooked," Julianne said, laughing. "Mr. Roarke won't allow any fast-food places on this island. My first trip away from here felt like going to another planet. But when we did visit a fast-food place, it was a Wendy's, and to this day I like them better than any other fast-food chain."

"They might even be better for you," Adam kidded, making her grin. "I tell you one thing, I really don't eat fast food anyway. Gives me acid reflux. I had to quit it cold turkey in college in Boston, because I was eating it so much that I was developing symptoms—coughing all the time, constantly clearing my throat, waking up with a sore throat every morning. When I saw the family doctor, he figured out it was the fast food that was doing it, and made me stick to a strict non-acidic diet. I was cured in two months. And that's crucial in my profession, where I have to use my voice all the time."

Julianne nodded understanding. "That's why you're being so picky now, I guess," she observed, perusing the food on his plate.

"Yeah. I can eat stuff like citrus fruits and tomato products every once in a while, but I have to stick to small servings so I don't agitate my gut. So far it's worked. I'm going to splurge on all the good stuff tonight, except maybe that fruit platter over there. I mean, it's a special occasion and all, and besides, my cabinets at home aren't exactly brimming."

"I know where you're coming from there. I work at Prince Christian's computer-services office, and he pays me well, but I still have to stick to a budget. See, here's my little break-the-habit story. When I first started working for him, I'd bring in fashion magazines and read them avidly on all my breaks and during lunch. And whenever I had enough extra cash, I'd hop the charter for a trip to Honolulu and buy all the trendy, 'in' stuff. I wasn't saving any money; I was just buying clothes. Then I got my first vacation, and I wound up having to stay home. Prince Christian gives out vacation time European-style, which means everybody gets four weeks to start, and earns more as we pile up years of service. I have six weeks every year now. So I had my first four-week vacation, and I'd had all these grand plans for it, but I had to scrap them all because I'd spent so much money on clothes. Since then, I've been getting every square inch of mileage possible out of the stuff I bought back then. I got so much stuff, I haven't really had to buy new clothes since then because I have a lot of different outfits and I'm not outgrowing anything."

"That's what I call cold turkey, all right. Hey, speaking of turkey, does there happen to be any in this buffet? I could live on cold turkey sandwiches."

"No kidding…I love chicken-salad sandwiches. I have them practically every day for lunch. I think I saw somebody doling out really thin-sliced turkey a little ways up the line here. Oh yeah, there she is. Sometimes I get honey-smoked turkey for sandwiches."

"My favorite kind. Hey, thanks." Adam accepted a small pile of the thinly sliced meat before turning to Julianne. "It sounds like we have a lot in common. Say, when I'm finished, the orchestra oughta be starting up soon, if they haven't already. Feel like dancing?"

"I'd love to," she agreed eagerly, and he nodded satisfaction and dug into his food. They continued talking about one thing and another as he worked his way through the meal, till all of a sudden Julianne felt the slightest sting between her shoulder blades, and then an abrupt rush of attraction toward Adam. She cut herself off in the middle of a sentence and blinked, catching his attention.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I just thought I felt…" she began, letting her voice trail off. For some reason she looked around, and realized they were back where they'd started, in front of the doorway to the back rooms. She could have sworn she heard a soft snickering sound, and her eyes shot to the top of the small jutting corridor. A cherubic face winked at her and drew back, disappearing among the oversized flowers.

"Felt what?" Adam prodded. He followed her gaze, but by then only the flowers and balloons were visible.

"I think that midget up there just shot me," Julianne said in disbelief, and immediately twisted around to search the floor behind her. But there was nothing there.

Adam laughed. "You mean he's even using real arrows? I hope they're miniature ones made out of Nerf foam or something, because that could get dangerous."

"It couldn't be Nerf. I felt it. Just a little sting, but I still felt it," she insisted.

Adam squinted at the floor around her feet. "Well, then, how come there's nothing there? Maybe you just had an itch on your back."

Julianne thought about pursuing the issue, even leaving Adam where he stood and taking up the matter with Roarke or Leslie; but then she realized she was afraid Adam would ultimately be attracted to someone else and go off with her instead. It wasn't that important, she decided; it could wait till tomorrow after work. "Yeah, maybe I did. So how's the turkey? I skipped it the first time around—if it's good, I might go back for some."

"It's too good," Adam observed, taking a generous bite. "I'm afraid of getting hooked on it and then not being able to get any after tonight."

Julianne grinned. "Legitimate worry. This thing's being catered by Mr. Roarke's employees, and they always make sure they get the best, which usually isn't available in the local grocery store. But we get some pretty decent sandwich meats here. Do you live near town? I'm in the apartment complex right on the outskirts."

"Just rented a place there," Adam said, focusing on her in surprise. "The management seems really great. I've got a rental rate that caters to my income."

"That's one of Mr. Roarke's policies. He tries to set things up so that everybody can have the basic necessities, no matter how much they're struggling financially. So it was his rule to adjust rental rates at the complex to fit a renter's income. What building are you in? I'm in F."

"Mine's in H. I guess if we wanted to visit, we could walk back and forth."

"Yeah, they're not too far apart. Hey, you said you start at the radio station next Monday? Have you met the other folks there yet? My brother Jeremy's the morning-shift DJ there. My parents still think he could do better, but at least they're not complaining about his not having a real job. He used to be a roadie for touring rock bands, and he met a few famous ones that way. He keeps framed pictures on his living-room wall."

"Yeah? It should be cool talking to him," Adam remarked. Then he smiled at her. "But right now, I'm having fun talking to you. Hey, I'm done—let's dance."

"Great." Adam and Julianne made their way onto the floor and began to move to the current tune, and he eyed her with interest. "Hey, you're pretty good."

"Thanks," she said, pleased.

"So you've got a sister named Jennette and a brother named Jeremy, huh? How many kids are there in your family anyway?"

"Well, let's see…my brother Jonathan, who also works for Prince Christian. He and I and Jeremy and Jennette are quadruplets—Jonathan and Jeremy are identical twins, and so are Jennette and I. We have three older siblings. Andrea's the oldest and has two girls, Tommy lives in Hawaii, and Camille's here on the island with her husband and three kids. We're by far the youngest—Camille was fourteen when we were born."

Adam whistled. "Quadruplets! Boy, you sure don't come across that every day. It must have been some experience."

"Well, people made a big deal out of it because apparently, getting two sets of identical twins at the same time is the least common way to have quads. My parents have a scrapbook of articles and pictures that came out when we were born, and some videotapes of news programs where we were mentioned as a bit of fun trivia. Andrea and Tommy and Camille tease us to this day about how we ruined their teenage social lives because everybody had to take his or her turn helping Mom take care of us." Adam laughed, and Julianne chuckled. "How about you, any brothers and sisters?"

"Two older sisters and a younger brother, plus one of each from my dad's first marriage. Dad married a woman from the mainland, but Nantucket was too isolated for her taste, so she got a divorce from him and moved back to the mainland with her two kids, Joey and Donna. Then he married my mom, a native islander, and got the rest of us—Kerry, Susan, me and Shane. They all still live on Nantucket."

"Big family, just like me," Julianne remarked.

"Yeah, but we all came one at a time," Adam kidded, and she made a face at him before they both laughed. "Say, how old are you, anyway?"

Julianne grinned. "I always heard guys are never supposed to ask a woman how old she is. Supposedly it's impolite."

"Do you know how stupid I think that is?" Adam said, looking gently exasperated. "My sister Kerry's like that. She refuses to tell anyone her age. If you ask me, it's a crock. Just shows how vain and shallow you are. Just to get her goat, whenever she's around and I meet someone new, I ask them how old they are."

"Hey, I think it's stupid too," Julianne said, laughing. "I like the way you handle it. I was just always told it wasn't polite, even though I guess it's okay to ask a guy how old he is. Anyway, I'll be 28 on April 10. How about you?"

"I turn 31 on July 8. Which, if you ask my parents, is too old to be bumming around from one radio station to another. They think that now I've passed the big three-oh, I should be marrying some nice woman and buying a house and having kids. I'm more than willing to do that, but I have to meet the right woman first. They're just gonna have to be patient. I've told them more than once, but with everybody else married off except Shane, it's not easy to make 'em drop the subject. Shane gets away with it because he's eight years younger than I am and still in college. He was a surprise baby for my parents."

"My parents are after me and Jonathan about getting married too. Jennette's married and has a little boy and a brand-new baby girl, and Jeremy's wife Holly is pregnant. So we're the last ones in the family who're still single, and I think they're figuring we're just not normal. They don't seem to realize that people just don't get married as young as they used to. I mean, they were married in the late 50s and Andrea was eighteen when we were born, so they're just an entirely different generation."

"Boy, it sounds like your sister Andrea is a different generation too, so that'd make a double generation gap. I'll bet that made for some interesting times at home."

"Yeah, I guess, but not so much with Andrea. We were still just a few months old when she left the island to go to Harvard, and she came back only once before her graduation. Then she married a local guy and settled down in Greater Boston, and we'd see her and our nieces only during the summers for a couple of weeks at a pop. So to us, she was always this distant adult sister, more of a story than the real thing. She got divorced a few years back and brought her daughters back to the island, except that Janine was so homesick that she got a job just so she could earn the money to take the first affordable flight back to Boston. She's in college there now. Her sister Denise adjusted better and seems to like it here. So anyway, we know Andrea better now than we ever did growing up, and it turns out most of the time that if she's witness to any disputes between us and our parents, she's on our side. She's a journalist for the _Fantasy Island Chronicle_ and probably makes better money than most of the local reporters, since she worked for years for the _Boston Globe."_

Adam laughed. "Man, after the _Globe_, she must think working for this island's paper is the most boring thing under the sun."

"She thinks it's relaxing. She's not nearly as crazy busy as she was in Massachusetts, and she has more time to spend with Denise and with the rest of the family." Julianne paused a moment, thinking back on their conversation, then chuckled. "That generation gap kind of got my brother Jeremy into trouble. He bummed around a lot before he returned to the island for good a few years ago. Like I said, he was a roadie for quite a while, and I guess he must've been a pretty good one since he met so many bands. Then that started to dry up some, and he was hunting for more roadie jobs when my parents laid down the law and told him to get a respectable job or else. They must've threatened to disown him or something. Mr. Roarke and Leslie told him there was a DJ job at the island radio station, and when he got it, my parents announced that wasn't good enough for their standards and made him move out. For a while he was living with Andrea and her girls. So you've got something in common with Jeremy."

"Huh…he sounds pretty respectable to me by now, if he's married and about to be a dad. I hope your parents patched things up."

"Yeah, when he got established at the station and was able to get more hours and make some extra cash, he got his own apartment. He met Holly the same weekend he got the DJ position, and when they got married, my parents were thrilled silly. She's a nurse at the island hospital, so I guess that was 'respectable' enough for them."

"I sure hope so. Say, what do you do at the computer place?"

"I'm a repair specialist, and sometimes I write computer programs. Prince Christian is the real computer whiz. He can build them practically from scratch, I think. He does most of the program writing, and he also designs websites, so he does more software work than hardware now. But he still likes to get in there and tinker with broken machines, just for the pleasure of doing grunt work and not having to think too hard—that's what he says. He's a terrific boss. He hired both me and Jonathan straight out of college—in fact, we hadn't even graduated yet, so at first we worked only on our summer breaks—and you'd think it'd be ultra-formal around there all the time, but for a prince, he's incredibly laid-back. He hates the publicity and the pomp that surround his station in life, so he likes to keep things low-key. It makes for a great working atmosphere."

"Sounds almost too good to be true," Adam kidded and checked his watch. "Hey, it's past nine. Time really does fly when you're having fun, doesn't it?"

"Yeah…wow, I can't believe I've been here three hours. You want to sit some out and talk some more? I love dancing, but right now my feet are begging for mercy."

"Sounds like a plan. I think I see some space on a bench over there by that wall." They made their way off the dance floor and got comfortable on the bench in question, then smiled at each other with mutual appreciation. "I'm sure glad I met you. I wasn't really expecting to meet anyone, so this is a nice bonus on the night."

Julianne grinned. "It's funny how comfortable I feel with you." It was true; she felt instinctively that she could talk to Adam about just about anything she happened to think of, and it was a very heady feeling. Never before had she connected so readily with a guy, and she hoped Adam felt the same way about her.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § - February 14, 2007

Prince Paolono VII of Arcolos had recently adopted the numerical suffix that would become his when he succeeded his father to the throne; it was Arcolosian custom to give the heir apparent his numerical designation at some point in his life, though always before he assumed the throne. Personally he thought it was a rather silly and pompous custom, but who was he to buck almost five centuries of tradition—at least before he had the power to do so? Arcolos had always had a mindset of its own, an easy thing to maintain since the kingdom was ensconced on a small Mediterranean island. He often thought about what sort of changes he might make once he was king, and had taken to writing down his ideas in a small and extremely secret notebook he always carried around with him. He knew it could be thirty or forty years before he took the crown, so he wanted to hold onto his ideas till he had the power to implement the ones he thought would do the country the most good.

He would be twenty-nine years old soon, which was why his father was getting so hysterical about the fact that he was still single. He was upset about Marcolo's bachelorhood as well, but Marcolo was the younger brother, so it wasn't quite as important to King Errico that Marcolo get married. Paolono felt the pressure keenly, and it was slowly driving him to the funny farm. Just before coming here, he had asked his father why he couldn't just appoint his sister Adriana's infant son, Prince Staffan of Lilla Jordsö, as his successor. "He's my nephew, and Roald and Adriana say he's strong and healthy. He'd make a fine king."

"Because the boy is foreign-born, and he descends through the female line!" Errico had roared. "Ever since Arcolos attained its independence, the firstborn son of the firstborn son has always taken the throne! You won't be allowed to break that storied line, my boy, so you and your brother are to take yourselves to Fantasy Island post-haste and find a suitable woman to get your sons on!"

Errico hadn't wanted to hear another word; so now here was Paolono, along with his brother, whom he'd caught several glimpses of by this time, dancing with a very pretty golden-haired young woman. As ever, Marcolo, with less riding on his shoulders, had made an apparent success of his father's latest stentorian demand while Paolono despaired of ever pleasing the man. He'd spoken with Leslie a couple of times already, and she had suggested first that he simply circulate among the guests and see who else was there; then, the second time, gestured toward the side of the room where the wallflowers sat. That had bothered him—a royal Bartolomé never hooked up with anyone other than an attractive consort—but as his failure to find a likely partner stretched on through the evening, he began to rethink Leslie's idea. Well, there were worse things he could do, after all, he reasoned. Who said the girl absolutely _had_ to be good-looking? Whatever she looked like, if he liked her enough and she liked him back, he would present her to his father as his future wife, and Errico would have to accept it. The king could dictate only so far, Paolono reasoned, even in such a hopelessly old-fashioned kingdom as theirs was.

So the prince struck off for the far side of the room where he could now see a row of women of a surprising range of ages sitting on the benches lined up there, many talking, but quite a few gazing wistfully out onto the dance floor. He paused in an unobtrusive spot and surveyed those who were sitting nearest to him. One was too old, another was clearly only a teenager, the next was too busy talking to the fourth one, the fifth—

"Excuse me, sir…you seem to be having a bit of trouble." The voice was high-pitched but discernibly masculine, and he turned and blinked in disbelief at the winged midget who hovered in the air beside him, dressed in a ridiculous, garish little red tuxedo and with a bow and a quiver full of arrows firmly wedged into place over his shoulder.

Paolono stared at him, nodding faintly. "Don't tell me…for this evening, you are the little god Cupid, is this correct?"

The midget cleared his throat. "Yeah…uh, yeah, for this evening."

"Well, you seem to play the part well, although I have no idea how you can stay aloft as you do. Perhaps that's Mr. Roarke's doing. Well, then, how can you help me?"

"As I said," the midget said, scowling, "you seem to be having some trouble. Although after a wisecrack like that, I'm not so sure I oughta help you."

Paolono, to his startled disbelief, found himself desperate enough by now to grasp at any straw, no matter how preposterous it looked. "I wish you would. You see…I do have a great problem on my hands." And he kept Cupid captive for several minutes explaining the insane situation he found himself in.

By the time he'd finished, Cupid's scowl had faded, replaced by an expression of intense interest. "Oh yeah, Arcolos—the last bastion of medieval mentality in the world. And I thought the Greeks and Romans were behind the times. Say, tell me something: what could your father do if you didn't find a woman here tonight? I mean, could he strip you of your heir-apparent-ness and give your brother the position, or what?"

"I don't think so," Paolono said slowly. "Actually, I don't know what my father would do. This has never happened in Arcolos before."

Cupid tilted his head to one side, deeply intrigued. "Yeah? Well, tell me this then—there must have been at least a few kings in your history who had only daughters. What'd the reigning monarch do when that happened?"

"There have been five such instances in our history, yes. In all cases, the king conferred heir-apparent status on the firstborn grandson."

"Oh, I see." Cupid considered this. "So in other words, there've always been male descendants to assume the throne, even if occasionally they've been more than one generation removed from the deciding monarch."

"Yes, exactly. My father is afraid that this may be the first generation in which the sons have no children at all. He would then have to turn to my sister Adriana and state that my successor would be her son, Staffan. He's loath to do this, you see, for Staffan is in fact a prince of Lilla Jordsö, not Arcolos. Further, he is the son of a daughter, rather than the son of a son, so my father far prefers that I produce at least one son to pass the crown along to, one day when I am old and dying. Of course, that day is very far away."

"Of course," Cupid said, flicking an ironic eyebrow north for just long enough that Paolono noticed the gesture and snorted. "Time passes faster than you think, my boy, and your father knows that, which is why he's so frantic to see you married and producing more little male heirs. I presume you're having a problem finding some suitable female who seems to be fecund and pretty enough to pass muster with the king."

Embarrassed, Paolono admitted, "I suppose that is the truth of the matter. But I am of a modern generation. I would hope that I could love the woman."

"And that she could love you?" Cupid hinted, the eyebrow popping up again.

Paolono shifted his weight. "Well, yes, that should be nice."

"I should say so," Cupid said stridently. "Women aren't just things to be plucked off a shelf and played with till men get tired of them. They're human beings in their own right, and they've been fighting for centuries to make men understand that. You Arcolosians really need to learn that little lesson. Denying a princess the throne merely because she's female—that's probably the stupidest reason in history to deny anyone anything."

Paolono cleared his throat; in truth, he'd been considering the heretical idea of changing Arcolosian law once he gained the throne, but had never dared mention it to anyone, not even his siblings, for fear it would get back to the current powers-that-be and be summarily shot down before it even saw the light of the voting booths. "I don't find being female a valid reason to deny a person the right to rule, either. Unfortunately, I am yet only a prince and have no power to effect changes. I can only wait until I am king, and that is certainly many years away. My father is not so old, not even fifty yet. I have little doubt that he has a good three or four decades left to him."

Cupid nodded. "In which case, considering what century we're in and how the world around your country has advanced, it's a shame that you couldn't work on changing his outlook. Though if you found a woman he liked as much as you did, that might help soften him up, don't you think?"

"At least enough not to dismiss the concept out of hand," Paolono agreed.

Cupid gave a decisive nod. "Well, then, you definitely need my help. I see you were checking out the wallflowers here. Anybody look appealing to you?"

Paolono glanced at the line of benches. "I haven't yet seen a woman who would fit my criteria." He noticed Cupid's disgusted look. "Not what you think. She should be of the right age. It would be ridiculous of me to take on a child who has not yet completed her schooling, or a woman who would be my mother's contemporary, for example."

"Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. That does kind of make a difference. You wouldn't want to be called a cradle-robber or a boy toy. Okay, then, we've settled that. What else?"

"Hmm…well, she should want to have children one day. I have no interest in a woman who can think of nothing but her career. Such women invariably say they do not want a husband and family until they are established in their careers, and then they do not think they are properly 'established' until they are too old to bear children. I think it is fine for a woman to have a career, but I don't care for those who have a career as their only focus in life. And before you protest, I believe the same for men. Even though I am to be king, and that is perhaps my 'career', I truly do want to find a woman to love."

"There's hope for you yet, my boy. You might be a groundbreaker in Arcolos' history, bring the place up to date with the times. Okay, a woman who's around your age and has other interests in life besides her job. Anything else?"

"Well, it would be nice if we liked each other and had things in common," Paolono said with a small sigh.

"Okay, that's doable. Do you care what nationality she is?"

"I don't personally, but if she does happen to be Arcolosian, it would please my father. And it should certainly eliminate language barriers."

"I don't know how many Arcolosian woman are here, but we can look for one. I'm surprised you haven't been deluged with requests from women all over your country to meet you and marry you. Haven't you?"

"Arcolosian women are ebullient and happy, but not naturally forthcoming. Not so much that I have been buried under marriage proposals. They are taught not to presume that they are good enough to marry into royalty."

Cupid whistled. "There's that attitude again. Okay, okay, I'll back off." He raised both hands at Paolono's threatening glare. "Come on, let's take a look. Don't worry, no one'll notice me. I can arrange it that way."

"I doubt that very highly," said a new and familiar voice, and they both found themselves looking at Roarke. He was alone, which unbeknownst to them all would have greatly surprised Christian and Leslie just at that moment.

Cupid looked outraged. "Aw, c'mon, Roarke, I know how to make myself invisible!"

"Do you indeed?" Roarke countered skeptically. "I had never heard that invisibility was among your abilities. I would suggest that if you truly wish to help the prince, you should allow him to peruse the women in question, and when he seems to be attracted to a particular one, then you may render assistance. Until then, you had better remain where you can do the most good. You're far too conspicuous."

"It's not fair," Cupid complained. "My brother can get away with so much more because he looks normal. Everybody thinks I'm just a flying midget."

Roarke put a finger to his lips, glancing at a fascinated Paolono. "We will discuss that later," he promised. "So, Your Highness, it appears that so far you are having little luck in your search for a partner."

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Roarke," Paolono admitted. "I wonder if you could do me a great favor and satisfy my curiosity. Are there any women here who come from Arcolos?"

"There are several, as I understand it," Roarke said with a smile. "In fact, if you care to find your way along this side of the room, about halfway down, you should find a very nice young lady from, I believe, the city of Ionici on your northern coast."

Paolono lit up, feeling real hope for the first time all evening. "I am deeply grateful, Mr. Roarke, you've helped tremendously. Thank you, thank you." He started away.

Behind him he heard Cupid ask eagerly, "Once he meets her, _then_ can I do my thing?"

"Please restrain yourself," Roarke said, sounding curiously indulgent. "I realize you are in your element here, but…" His voice faded into the general background noise as Paolono moved on, and he shortly forgot all about it, so intent was he on finding the woman Roarke had mentioned. To his delight, it didn't take long before he spied her; she sat by herself on one bench, dressed in a simple red gown and with a red hibiscus in her dark, wavy hair, hands folded in her lap and dark eyes roaming the dancing crowd. To his eyes, trained to see the beautiful creatures who populated the jet set, she was just average-looking; but at that moment she was the most appealing female he'd yet seen here.

He approached her and smiled when she turned to look up at him; and she gasped and shot to her feet, curtsying deeply. "Your Highness!"

"Tell me your name," he requested, still smiling.

She seemed slightly star-struck and was a bit breathless as she spoke. "I am Lindalia Rosatia Comodori," she said.

"I am quite pleased to meet you, Lindalia Comodori. Would you like this dance?"

"I would be honored," she exclaimed, beaming, and the next moment they were on the floor. She was half a head shorter than he was, but seemed to fit into his arms as if she'd been molded that way. He struck up a conversation, and before too long he knew enough about her to make her very suitable indeed. Roarke had been correct; she hailed from Ionici, a resort town facing the French coast to their north, and worked as an assistant to her father, a local travel agent. She was twenty-six and the youngest of five children, and had been born and raised in the same house where she still lived with her parents. The more he heard, the more he liked; and he had the feeling Lindalia was of the same mind, for she gazed at him with a gleam of pure wonder in her eyes, and every time he smiled at her, she smiled widely back. Maybe, he thought cautiously, his bad luck with women was finally turning.

Meantime, somewhere behind him, Cupid and Roarke were both watching avidly. "I really think it's gonna work. They look like they like each other. C'mon, Roarke, lemme shoot 'em. Please," Cupid begged, like a little boy dying to squirt his older siblings with the latest jumbo water pistol.

Roarke eyed him with tolerant amusement. "Give them a few more minutes."

"Aw, come _on,"_ Cupid yelped impatiently. "What other criteria do you need? Can't you see they're really into each other? Gimme a break, Roarke, I've been in this business for at least two millennia, and that's longer than _you've_ been playing matchmaker. I think I oughta know when two people like each other enough for me to shoot at."

Roarke chuckled. "Perhaps you have a point. Very well, then, you may shoot."

"_Yes!"_ Cupid pumped a fist into the air, then plucked an arrow from his quiver, notched it into his bow, elevated himself just high enough to get a clear shot, and let fly. Only he and Roarke saw the little shower of sparks that sprayed into the air above Paolono and Lindalia, but anyone who saw them could easily make out the new interest with which they regarded each other. "There, I toldja it'd work!"

Roarke cleared his throat; he greatly disliked _I told you sos_, but kept this to himself, instead merely excusing himself and retreating. He needed to talk to Eros to make sure no disasters were forthcoming from that end, before going back to Alberta.

Congratulating himself on creating another couple, Cupid was about to retreat to his little hideaway when someone grabbed one of his wings, rudely halting him in midair and nearly making him capsize. "Hey, whaddaya think you're doing?"

"You just hold it right there," said Leslie's voice, and he twisted his head over one shoulder to see his wing firmly in her grasp, a very annoyed look on her face. A step or two behind her stood Christian, looking as if he really wanted to laugh. "I've got a bone to pick with you, shorty, and I intend to do it right here and now. What did you do to my father?"

"What? I didn't do anything to him," Cupid protested blankly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yes you do, and you might as well quit trying to fool me. It won't work. I may be mortal, but I'm not dumb. What business do you think you have, shooting him like that? Don't say you didn't, because I've seen him three or four times tonight talking _very earnestly_ to some strange woman, and Christian can vouch for that because he's the one who first pointed them out to me. Why did you do that?"

"Hey, he was fair game. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring," Cupid pointed out.

Leslie slammed a heel on the floor. _"Cupid!"_

The little god gave up; Leslie was obviously determined, and there was a very angry flame in her blue eyes. "Just because Roarke's hosting this party doesn't mean he shouldn't have a little bit of fun, does it?"

"Do you even know anything about this woman?" Leslie demanded. "We certainly don't, and I don't know what Father knows about her. All that aside, though, you know good and well that Father is a breed apart. He's a special case. He's not just any ordinary mortal dope looking for somebody to have a good time with. You know that, Cupid, but you went off and shot him anyway. And you know what your track record with my father has been the last few decades, don't you? You made him go and fall for a poor woman who had an inoperable brain tumor, so that it took him months to get back to normal, and he still hasn't totally recovered from her death. I also remember a famous dancer by the name of Julie Mars, whom he had to give up despite their mutual love, and that certainly wasn't cause for celebration. And then there was that godawful Paola LiSciola." Cupid winced, and she pounced. "See there, you _do_ remember! And I don't know who or what Father may have been involved with in the past, but the fact that Helena was his only marriage ever, at least that I know of, and that he has no children other than a stepson and an adopted daughter should tell you something."

Christian, grinning in spite of himself, stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. "All right, my darling, I think you've made your point." To Cupid he said, "What I want to know is, why would Mr. Roarke be vulnerable to your arrows in the first place? As Leslie said, he's not just any ordinary man."

Cupid sighed. "Listen, you two, you gotta keep this to yourselves. You can't tell anybody, and I mean nobody. Not even Mr. Roarke. I don't think he realizes what I did."

"That still doesn't give you a license to take advantage," Leslie said indignantly.

"Yeah, I know, but I just thought he deserved to have some fun at his own party, okay? Anyway…I'm fully aware that Roarke's no ordinary human. Or whatever he is. The thing is, I can successfully shoot him only once a year—on Valentine's Day. That's how he fell in love with Helena Marsh. She'd been to the island twice before they got married, and the first time, she was there on Valentine's Day. And he met Julie Mars on a Valentine's Day too, years before you were born."

"What about Paola?" Leslie asked, scowling. "She'd been and gone by the time that year's Valentine's Day rolled around."

"That wasn't me, for your information. She did something to Roarke—you remember she's one of his people. I couldn't shoot her either. Why're you blaming me for her?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize," Leslie said. "But you acted guilty when I mentioned her."

"Only because she was probably the worst of the bunch of women he's been involved with over the centuries, except maybe Elizabeth Bathorý. It was the memory of those duds that made me react. Roarke's my friend, and I hate to see him hurt."

"Then do something about this woman. I'm pretty sure Father had no particular intention of falling in love tonight."

"Does anybody ever have an intention of falling in love?" Cupid retorted with a smirk, and she lifted a fist in threat. "Okay, okay…back off. Geez, you're ferocious."

Christian snickered. "Don't cross my wife; she's very protective of those she loves. Is there some way for you to reverse the effects of your arrows?"

Cupid considered it. "We-ellllll…I dunno. Or hold it…actually, I do. It's just that it doesn't seem to happen too often, especially in this day and age—"

"Cu-_piiiiiiiid!"_ Leslie growled warningly on a rising note.

"A'_right,_ a'_right!"_ Cupid raised both hands in surrender. "Valentine arrows have a special condition attached to them. In order for them to have a permanent effect, the people hit by them have to kiss before Valentine's Day ends at midnight."

"What sort of kiss?" Christian asked. "That is to say, must it be an involved French kiss, or can it be a quick peck?"

"Quick pecks are fine as long as they're on the lips," Cupid said. "Doesn't have to be one of those French jobs. But a peck on the cheek doesn't mean anything, so it doesn't count towards falling in love. It's gotta be lips touching lips, even if the couple's met for the first time that day. Does that help?"

Christian and Leslie looked at each other. "How do you propose to prevent Mr. Roarke from kissing that woman?" he asked.

"I don't know exactly," she murmured, frowning and letting her gaze drift out over the sea of dancers. Then it hit her and she lit up. "I think I've got something. Cupid, before I say anything, I want you to find your brother and tell him that, no matter what he sees, he is absolutely forbidden to shoot my father with one of his arrows. I don't want him needlessly complicating the situation." Cupid nodded and fluttered away, trying to look unobtrusive and pretty much failing. Ignoring this, Leslie turned to Christian. "I don't know if this'll work, but it's the only option I can come up with. How about, say maybe five minutes before midnight, I go up and make an announcement that all couples should exchange a Valentine kiss. I'll let you know when I'm ready to do it, and you find Mr. Roarke and that woman and come up with some sort of excuse to get him outside and away from her. If you can keep him out there past midnight, we should be safe."

Christian considered that. "It sounds as if it has some chance of working, as long as Mr. Roarke doesn't take it into his head to kiss her spontaneously before then. Or suppose they decide to leave early, and he gives her a kiss goodnight at her front door?"

"Don't confuse me," Leslie pleaded. "Those possibilities crossed my mind too, but I'm betting on the belief that Father, being the consummate host, would consider it impolite to duck out on his own party before anyone else leaves, short of some dire emergency. Taking that woman home and kissing her on the front porch wouldn't qualify for that. And I don't think he'd kiss her in public…unless Cupid's arrow was particularly potent."

"You have a point there," he observed. "Very well, then, I think I can manage that. And it might be prudent to keep a discreet eye on Mr. Roarke till you're ready for me to maneuver him outside the building. I'll have to take some time to think of something suitably drastic that warrants my need to speak with him in private."

She giggled. "Okay. Thanks, my love. I can't imagine what got into Cupid's head."

"You can rake him over the coals for it later, my Rose. For now let's just try to keep your father out of danger. Though I still don't know why it seems dangerous for him to fall in love, your examples notwithstanding."

"Hmm…well, maybe we can wangle an introduction and get at least a basic idea of what she's like. She's probably some vacationer, or I'd remember her name, like I do the fantasizers. Do you see them anywhere?"

They both stood there slowly pivoting around, scanning the people for Roarke's white suit, and finally spied it a few feet down from the door leading into the foyer where all the coats had been stored. Christian saw him first and pointed him out, then took Leslie's hand and led her along the edges of the dancing multitudes. The orchestra seemed tireless and Leslie wondered if they were all looking eagerly forward to midnight, when the DJ they had hired would take over.

At last they gained their objective and paused beside Roarke and his mysterious companion. Up close, Leslie could see now that the woman's artfully styled hair bore a silvery sheen that didn't look quite natural; she had faded blue eyes bracketed by networks of wrinkles that put unfortunate cracks in the makeup she must have carefully applied earlier that evening. Her dress made Leslie think of something out of the Victorian age, with its ruffled bodice, hem and collar; puffed sleeves; heart-shaped buttons; and a big bow in the back at the waist. The whole thing was made from pink candy-striped gingham. She had a pair of reading glasses perched atop her head, ruining the overly romantic effect, and lowered them now to peer at Christian and Leslie.

"Hi, Father," Leslie ventured. "I see you're enjoying yourself."

"Yes," Roarke agreed, brightening when he saw her. "I'm glad you two are here. I've wanted to introduce you, but you seemed to be quite busy all evening."

"Uh, yeah…it's been a very successful party, from all reports," Leslie said.

"Ah, good, good…I'm very pleased to hear that. Well…may I introduce Alberta Ormond-Bates, visiting us from Coventry, England. Alberta, my dear, this is my daughter, Leslie Enstad, and her husband, Christian."

Alberta Ormond-Bates released a squeaky little titter that made Leslie think of a canary. "My my, it's lovely to meet you both. And Your Highness…you look smashing." Before Christian could protest, she curtsied to him and he sighed to himself. Leslie noticed and squelched a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Ormond-Bates. Are you here on vacation? Holiday?" she corrected herself when the older woman peered blankly at her.

"Oh, yes, on holiday. Quite so, my dear girl." She pronounced it "gull." "Your dear father has been lovely to me this evening, just lovely. So generous and accommodating, and willing to fill my smallest request. I have simply the loveliest bungalow, and there's not a thing I want that someone doesn't take care of for me. Why, here, this evening, when I so desperately needed an escort to this little fete, Mr. Roarke was happy to oblige."

"I see," murmured Leslie with a questioning look at Roarke.

"Well, I could hardly allow her to come unescorted, could I?" Roarke inquired in a reasonable tone. "Surely you understand."

"She did come unescorted," Leslie reminded him flatly. "You came here with us."

Roarke frowned and thought back. "Why, so I did." He smiled in apology. "Forgive me my faulty memory. However, Alberta did in fact come without company, and it just didn't seem right to me, leaving her all alone."

"He's been such a dear man," Alberta trilled. It _sounded_ like an avian trill; there was just no other way to describe it. "And a truly gifted dancer too, may I add. Leslie, my gull, you're a lucky child, a very lucky child indeed."

"Yeah, that's me, lucky," Leslie murmured, an antsy feeling billowing in her gut. She couldn't understand her instinctive reaction; Alberta might be annoying, but she seemed harmless otherwise. "I take it you've danced with Father several times already."

"Oh, certainly. Such a lovely man. I thought he seemed just a bit lonely, you know, so I approached him and requested a dance. Oh, listen, my dear…it's 'Somewhere My Love'. One of my very favorite tunes. Shall we?" She gazed up at Roarke in abject adoration, and he smiled and led her onto the dance floor, with only the barest murmured excuse in Leslie's and Christian's direction before he went.

"Fate save us," Christian said, staring after them.

"She's…she's, well, sticky," Leslie muttered, hugging herself. "I don't like it."

"Sticky?" Christian echoed through a half-laugh. "What does that mean?"

"I mean…well, I just feel like I fell into a vat of honey." She made motions of trying to brush off some viscous substance, and Christian let his laughter have its way.

"I suppose you mean she's cloying," he offered, and squeezed her hand at her vigorous nod. "I sensed it too. At first I thought she might just seem like a silly appendage, but then I saw that look she gave your father when she asked him to dance just now. Either she truly is as silly as her veneer makes her look, or there's something up her sleeve."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Leslie admitted. "I wonder if there's some way one of us could talk to her a little…ask her some questions. I don't know how far we could go before she got suspicious, but…"

Christian smiled. "I think I understand what you mean. You'd like to know if she has any permanent designs on Mr. Roarke, and what her intentions are should she succeed in her quest, right?" At her nod: "Perhaps you and I can go out and dance our way near them, and then I could cut in and get her far enough away to ask some of those questions. As much as the idea bothers me, for once I could use my royal status to my advantage. That curtsy she gave me suggests to me that my title might keep her a bit in awe of me."

"Let's hope you're right," Leslie said as they moved out onto the dance floor and began to maneuver their way closer to Roarke and Alberta.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § - February 14, 2007

They had a little trouble getting near enough to facilitate the switch, giving Leslie enough time to start dreaming up monkey wrenches to throw into the works. Suppose Alberta—or worse, Roarke—refused to allow Christian to cut in? What if they both didn't allow it? Or suppose they did, but Alberta wouldn't answer Christian's questions? What if Alberta was much smarter than she looked, and was really out to take Roarke for everything he had? Suppose every plan Christian and Leslie had come up with backfired, and Roarke kissed Alberta, and was hooked on her forevermore? Was it possible to murder a god, even an old Roman one whom nobody really worshipped anymore? If it was, would she stand a trial, and if so, where and by whom?

"Leslie, my Rose, you're thinking too much again," Christian said, amused. "I can read it all over your face. Please, try not to think about every possible way this could go wrong, and just concentrate on each step as we come to it, and quietly celebrate each little success. Since Cupid can't unshoot his arrow, we'll just have to rely on our own wits."

"And hope Alberta has as few as she looks like she has," Leslie muttered, making him laugh and agree. "Oh, there they are. Quick, before people close them off again."

Fortunately, the fates Christian's people tended to believe in seemed to be on their side at the moment, and they were able to settle into position right next to Roarke and Alberta. Christian winked at Leslie, then released her and promptly tapped Roarke's shoulder. "Excuse me, may I?" he inquired.

Roarke looked rather startled, Alberta a bit flustered. Quickly taking advantage, Christian whisked Alberta away into the crowd; Roarke looked at Leslie, who smiled and offered, "Dance, Father?"

"Certainly," he agreed, as if he'd never lost his aplomb, and they were shortly waltzing to the old standard. It brought back memories for Leslie, of the days before she and Christian had met and she had had to attend some formal function at Roarke's side, and how he was usually her dance partner. Roarke clearly remembered too, for he glanced down at her feet and remarked, "Your waltzing has improved greatly over the years."

She grinned. "It's all the dancing I've done with Christian."

"Yes," he mused, then glanced into the crowd where the prince had disappeared with Alberta. "Interesting, how eager your husband was to steal a dance with my date."

"Chalk it up to curiosity," Leslie suggested, keeping her voice light. "After all, it was a real surprise to both of us, seeing you keeping company with only one woman the whole evening, and I guess you could say we're just wondering what she's like."

"She's decidedly energetic for someone of her years and her apparent fragility," said Roarke. "She has kept me on the dance floor for the better part of the time I've spent with her, and she seems to prefer the faster songs, although of course she won't dance to anything modern. At times I fear that even I can't keep up with her."

"A lot of energy, huh? I guess she lives right," Leslie said, though for some reason this knocked on a back door of her brain somewhere. "I guess you two have talked a lot since you first met her here."

"It's odd," Roarke said slowly, "I don't feel quite like myself. It was as if, the moment Alberta asked me for our first dance, I felt strongly drawn toward her. And she is usually not the type of woman I find romantically attractive."

_I'll say,_ Leslie thought, wondering how much she should tell him. After a few seconds' inner debate, she decided it was only right that he know. "Listen, Father, I talked with Cupid a little while ago…"

"Did you?" Roarke inquired. "It seems he's been having a great deal of success this evening. I think Eros is doing well also; when I checked up on him, he said he had been very careful in choosing the people he shoots with his arrows."

"That's unusually restrained, for Eros," Leslie noted. "But listen…Cupid's been working overtime tonight, it seems. When I spoke with him—"

To her extreme consternation, she was never allowed to finish the sentence, for just then Christian and Alberta came back. "You weren't gone very long," Roarke said.

"No," Alberta agreed brightly. "The prince here is a very gifted dancer, but I truly missed you, my dear. You know all the wonderful old songs and I simply love to dance to them with you. I hope you won't mind, Lisa."

"Leslie," the peeved younger woman corrected her, a little pointedly.

"Oh my dear, I _am_ sorry," Alberta chuckled. "Well, I knew it started with an L." She turned to Roarke. "Shall we?"

"Of course," he agreed, and in two seconds they were gone.

"For crying out loud," Leslie complained, turning to Christian. "Can you believe—" She caught herself, blinking at him; he was panting. "Why're you breathing so hard?"

Christian shook his head a couple of times and tugged at the collar of his tuxedo shirt. "She was well on the way to wearing me out. I realize 'Somewhere My Love' is a fast waltz, but I could have sworn she was dancing double-time to the thing. I've had runs on the beach that didn't wear me down that rapidly. She's like an electrical dynamo; if we could plug her in, she could probably power half the island."

Leslie frowned; again she heard the knocking on that mental back door. "Father said something similar. Energetic. It's gotta mean something." She tried to grasp the connection, but it wouldn't come; exasperated, she focused fully on her husband. "So did you have a chance to ask her anything?"

Christian grimaced, taking her into his arms and waltzing with her, though far more sedately than Alberta had apparently been doing. "I managed to learn that she's quite wealthy, and that she's outlived four husbands—all of them rich, which I'm sure is where her own wealth came from. She's exactly seventy-one years old. She made a point of telling me this herself, because she seems to be quite proud of the fact that she has the energy of someone half her age. She's a little thing…felt like a bird in my arms."

"Oh? She doesn't look skinny," Leslie said, surprised.

"It's that horrendous dress she's wearing. I think she's padded it with something, but that didn't disguise the fact that she has the build of a fishing pole. No wonder you were upset with Cupid. I think our instincts about this woman are dead-on."

Leslie nodded. "The more I hear, the worse I feel. Did you find out anything else?"

"Nothing of note. She has no children, but she does have two stepsons elsewhere in England, each the child of a different deceased husband, who she announced both hate her with a passion, so that she intends to leave them nothing in her will."

"I feel sorry for the stepsons. She really sounds suspicious. I have to wonder about her outliving four husbands. It sounds like a bad murder mystery, but I keep getting the feeling she must have done something to them to kill them off."

Christian stopped dancing and began to dig into an inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket. "This is really bad form and I can't stand people who chat on mobiles in the middle of parties, but I think this time it's an emergency. My office in London will be open. I'm going to call Allegra Post and ask her to do some research for me, and get back to me when she finds out something significant." He pulled out his cell phone, flipped it open and punched a couple of buttons, scrolling down a list of preprogrammed numbers till he found the one he wanted. Pushing a button to dial it, he shifted the phone to his left hand, slid his right arm around her and led her in the general direction of the side of the room while he waited for an answer. After a moment he brightened a little. "Yes, hello, Allegra, this is Christian. Fine, and you? Good. Listen, I need a favor. No, it has nothing to do with the business, it's something personal. If you would, please, bring up a search engine and do some digging on a woman by the name of Alberta Ormond-Bates. That's fine, I'll wait."

"Oh, that's neat. I didn't even think of that," Leslie said, impressed.

He grinned. "It's probably the first time I've been truly grateful to have been talked into setting up business in another country. Don't worry, my Rose, if Alberta has really outlived four husbands, it should have brought her some attention in the UK, at least."

"Let's hope so," Leslie murmured fervently, and he smiled and squeezed her. She saw Julianne Ichino wander by, a few feet away, alongside a young man with pale hair and a cute crooked grin. He was dressed so casually, compared to the rest of the partygoers, that Leslie realized he must be the DJ she and Roarke had hired to provide dancing after the orchestra left at midnight. The thought prompted her to look at her watch; it was nearly eleven.

Several minutes passed while Christian gazed absently around the room, waiting with his phone against his ear; then he straightened beside her. "Yes, I'm here," he said into the phone. "What did you find?"

Leslie watched his expression change as he listened; finally he muttered something under his breath in his native tongue. "Hmph. Yes, I was suspicious, but I certainly didn't expect that." His voice was taut with barely restrained rage, Leslie realized, and she pulled her own spine erect, tightening her arm around his waist. "Thank you, Allegra, I appreciate all your efforts and your assistance. Yes, I'll check in with you in another day or two as to the business. All right then, have a good day." He clapped the phone closed and turned to Leslie with a grim look. "Your instincts were right, my Rose. Allegra found a number of news stories about Alberta Ormond-Bates that may interest you. When her third husband died, people were suspicious, but an autopsy turned up nothing. That was about a year before the story of my marriage to Marina became common knowledge outside Lilla Jordsö. Alberta married her fourth husband the same year you and I were wed; and a bit more than four years later, he too expired. The autopsy on number four was much more thorough and turned up something that made the authorities exhume all three of the previous husbands and perform new autopsies on them." He shook his head. "All the more reason to get her off this island and away from your father. Alberta's husbands all died of amakarna poisoning."

The mental back door in Leslie's brain flew open as if someone had kicked it in. "That's it! All that energy she has! Either she's taking amakarna herself, or else more likely, she's on black lightning. Extra energy and a fairly severe weight loss are characteristic symptoms of its use."

Christian scowled and glared across the room, as if seeking out Roarke and Alberta. "I can just imagine what Mr. Roarke would say if he knew."

"Well, she can't kill him the way she did her husbands," Leslie said. "We may not want him in Alberta's clutches, but he's in no danger of dying. Years ago, he told me that he's one of the rare few who can tolerate amakarna without needing it every day as an essential nutrient. Considering the status of amakarna in most countries these days—never mind black lightning—it's a wonder Alberta's not sitting in prison somewhere."

"No one could prove anything against her, according to the information Allegra found for me. But if she's taking black lightning, I have to wonder how she gets it into the country without customs seizing it." Christian thought a moment. "I remember how you said once that for many years your father had a policy of not allowing amakarna on this island. Do you think his attitude toward it in general is still the same, even though he's given Rogan special permission to grow it for my nieces?"

"I'd bet on it," Leslie said with a firm nod. "You know, my love, I think we just solved the problem of what urgent subject you can use on Father when it's time to get him out of here so I can have all the couples kiss."

Christian grinned; knowing that Roarke was in no real mortal danger lightened the situation considerably. "That takes a load off my mind. What time is it?"

"Eleven. We could do it now, you know. Once you tell him about her probable use of black lightning, time won't make any difference. He'll want nothing to do with Alberta, and he'll probably kick her off the island." Leslie hesitated a moment, then bit her lip and admitted, "Although that might not happen till after midnight, since Cupid's arrow doesn't wear off till then."

He laughed shortly. "In that case, the sooner the better. I'll go and find him now, and you hurry over to the DJ's booth and watch till you see me take him out. Then give it another sixty seconds before you make the announcement, so we can be sure I have him well and truly outside the building."

"Good plan," Leslie agreed, and he smiled, dropped a kiss on her lips and plowed into the still-dancing crowd. As soon as she lost sight of him, she began to work her way along the wall toward the DJ booth up near the front of the room, not far from where the orchestra still played.

The booth was in shadow and would remain so till the orchestra departed, so she was able to slip in unnoticed and settle herself on the high stool therein. She glanced frequently toward the entrance, hoping it wouldn't take Christian too long to get Roarke out, although she worried that Alberta would have an undue influence on her father and try to prevent this. Wondering how potent Cupid's arrow had been, she let her gaze stray to the flower-and-balloon-bedecked hideaway where he had spent most of the evening, and thought she saw a movement under the balloons as they gently swayed in the room's air currents. _Yeah, you just stay right there, you troublemaker. Wait till we get hold of you again later!_

She thought she glimpsed a flicker of white and hastily returned her scrutiny to the entry; a few moments later she was rewarded by the sight of Christian leading Roarke to the door, speaking earnestly with him. To her relief, Alberta was nowhere to be seen. Leslie waited till Christian and Roarke had disappeared from view, then consulted her watch and counted off sixty seconds exactly before standing up and flicking the switch on the microphone in front of her. She deliberately patted the mike so that a series of thuds cut through the penetrating babble of voices.

The orchestra's current tune faded away and most of the voices died out; a spotlight flipped on as though by magic, and she aimed a general smile at the faces turned in her direction. "Hello, everyone, and Happy Valentine's Day," she began, then was forced to pause while the crowd applauded her greeting. She grinned. "Thank you. I hope everyone's been having a wonderful time this evening and that at least most, if not all, of you have found someone special to spend time with. In view of that, I thought we'd have a little bit of fun before Valentine's Day is officially over. Let's have every couple in the room kiss each other. It doesn't have to be anything show-offish or anything like that, just a little kiss on the lips. After all, it looks as if this party's been a roaring success, and I thought it would be fun to celebrate that with a little kiss!"

Laughter and scattered applause greeted that, and Leslie grinned again. "Could I have a drum roll?" she requested whimsically, and the orchestra's drummer obliged, setting off some more laughter. "Here we go, everybody. Get ready now. Three, two, one…kiss!"

She was relieved and gratified to see that nearly everyone within her sight was willing to humor her. All over the room, heads turned toward one another and kisses were exchanged, some gentle, some shy, some lingering, and even a few really lusty ones. Nearby she spied Julianne Ichino and the guy she thought was the DJ, lips pressed against each other, a split second before they stepped back from each other, both looking sheepish.

"Beautiful!" Leslie exclaimed into the mike, ending the moment. "Thanks, everyone, and congratulations to all the couples. I hope at least some of you have been able to find a life partner this evening. Good luck to everyone out there, and once again, Happy Valentine's Day. There's still plenty of food, so help yourselves. The orchestra will be here till midnight, and after that we have a DJ taking over, for those of you who still have enough stamina to hang around and dance to some more recent tunes. Enjoy, everyone, and good night." She tossed a self-conscious wave to the crowd and stepped out of the DJ booth, heaving a sigh of relief. As many times as she'd spoken to a crowd since becoming Roarke's assistant, she had never really enjoyed it, especially when she had to speak off the cuff as she had just done. She was glad it was over, and could only hope that Christian had managed to deliver their urgent message to Roarke.

With that in mind, she wriggled her way along the side of the wall, only to run into Julianne and her new friend. "Hey, Miss Leslie…that was inspired," Julianne exclaimed. "It's been such a great party. I mean, at first I wasn't having too much fun, but then I met Adam here, and suddenly it got a whole lot better."

"That's great," Leslie said, somewhat distracted but trying to pay the proper attention to the younger woman. She eyed Adam. "You're the DJ, right?"

"That's right," he said and stuck out a hand. "Adam Ryerson. Fresh out of Nantucket."

That completely diverted her and she lit up in surprise. "No kidding! I was born in Connecticut. What brings you all the way here?"

"Job-hunting," Adam confessed with a laugh, "and a desire to get away from certain meddling family members who think I need to find a more substantial job and stop being a playboy now that I'm over 30. Actually, I've had good luck here. I got hired at the island radio station, I got this job here tonight, and I met Julianne."

Leslie grinned. "Julianne's a good egg. She works for my husband, and he's always been very pleased by her work. Hey, you guys have fun, huh? Stay as late as you want."

"I'll be here till the bitter end," Adam kidded. "I hope the buffet will too."

They all laughed, and Leslie assured him there'd be plenty to sustain him through the remainder of the party. Then she thought she heard a familiar voice and remembered her mission. "Well, I better get going. Have a great time, and it was nice to meet you, Adam. Good seeing you, Julianne."

They waved her off as she made her way toward the room's entrance, where she now saw Christian and Roarke standing just inside the door. "Ah, there you are," Christian said, spotting Leslie first.

"Everything all right?" she asked.

Roarke turned to her at the question and smiled wryly. "I see the two of you have been collaborating again."

"It was for your own good, Father," Leslie said. "I just had a weird feeling about that woman. I assume Christian told you everything he found out."

"Indeed he did. I might have suspected something, but as I mentioned to you earlier, somehow I don't feel quite myself this evening."

"That," said Leslie darkly, "is because Cupid got off a shot at you. His aim's too good. He saw you with Alberta and apparently decided you ought to have a chance to fully enjoy your own party, so he zapped you with an arrow."

"What are you planning to do about Alberta?" Christian inquired as Roarke shook his head. "I'll wager any money she has a stash with her, whether it be amakarna or black lightning. And I know you have strict rules about those substances."

Roarke nodded and glanced across the crowd without focusing on any one person. "I am afraid I will have to make a few inquiries, which unfortunately means I must spend a little more time with Alberta…Ms. Ormond-Bates." His self-correction made Christian and Leslie exchange looks of relieved amusement behind Roarke's back. "If the two of you feel you can stomach that, then I'll get to the bottom of this."

"Just don't kiss her," Leslie said.

Christian turned aside to hide a snicker while Roarke stopped short to stare at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, my dear, I'm so relieved to see you. I simply can't abide dancing alone," a voice exclaimed from nearby, and they all turned to see Alberta eagerly approaching. "Might we get in the last few dances before the young people take over the venue?"

Roarke smiled broadly, as if the last ten minutes or so had never happened; but Leslie could see a particular gleam in his dark eyes. "I should be delighted," he replied, and with that they were gone again.

Christian blew out his breath, watching them go. "What time is it?" he wondered, lifting his wrist even as he spoke to glance at his Rolex. _"Herregud,_ another 45 minutes to go. I don't know if I'll survive this evening intact."

"As long as Father survived it intact, that's all that matters to me," Leslie said and grinned up at him. "Come on, let's dance. We deserve it after what we just went through."


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § - February 15, 2007

During her rounds the following day to prepare for the upcoming weekend, Leslie dropped in at the island hospital to visit Tabitha, who was still there with her newborn son. She already had guests, as it turned out; Camille and Lauren were there, and as Leslie said hello and took a seat, Myeko came in. She had to stand, but it didn't matter anyway, as she was here to get a quick story on the birth of little Rafael Ordoñez for the paper's "Island Happenings" section.

"So how was the party?" Tabitha finally asked after answering at least two dozen questions about Rafael, who at the moment was sleeping soundly in her arms.

"Yeah, and what was the deal with that dwarf with the eagle's wings I kept seeing all over the room?" Myeko put in, turning eagerly to Leslie. "I figured it must've been one of Mr. Roarke's cute little embellishments, but I saw you talking to him, so I thought, wow, there's more to this than it looks like."

Camille shot her a skeptical look. "Are you saying you thought at first it was some kind of animatronic android?"

"Like you'd know all about it," Myeko retorted. "Here's our chance to find out from the closest source we've got. It's just like the old days at school every Monday lunch period. Cough it up, Leslie, we're dying to hear."

Leslie peered at the notepad she held and said, "Just so long as it doesn't show up in tomorrow's paper." The girls laughed and Myeko obligingly put away the pad before settling on the edge of Tabitha's bed. "Well, let's put it this way. Father thought it might be a good idea if he had, uh…outside help."

Tabitha, Camille and Lauren looked at one another, but Myeko suddenly snapped her fingers and lit up. "I _knew_ that guy looked familiar last night! The tall, dreamy-looking tanned dude with the suit and tie, hanging all over that airheaded model Marishka Ilyanova last night. Man, no wonder I was so jealous for no reason. That was Eros, wasn't it?"

This got her piercing stares from the other girls, while Leslie looked on, trying to squelch a smile. "What would you know about some old Greek god?" Lauren demanded.

Myeko realized what she had said and cleared her throat, glancing at Leslie. "Well, uh, I…to tell you the truth, I met him once, before I met Nick. We, uh…" She let her voice trail off, then smiled dreamily as her gaze lost focus. "What a night."

Lauren and Camille exchanged glances, and Tabitha's head jutted forward. "You did not," she said, astounded.

Maureen walked in just then, having overheard this. "She did not what?" she asked.

Myeko turned to her. "Hey, Maureen, you can corroborate my story. Remember that time when we came to the main house, when Noelle and Brianna were little, and we met all those peculiar-looking creatures having beer and snacks on the terrace behind Mr. Roarke's office? You know, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, and Mother Goose and Lady Luck, and Jack Frost and Mother Nature?"

Maureen had to think back, judging from her expression, but Myeko was visibly gratified when their friend's face revealed that she did remember. "Oh yeah, that's right…and I seem to remember there was one artificially handsome guy there who claimed he was Eros. I couldn't believe it when you agreed to a one-night stand with him."

Three identical gasps filled the room, making the baby stir. "Get out!" Lauren blurted.

"A one-night stand with a total stranger?" Camille asked in disbelief. "In this day and age? When the heck was this, anyway?"

Maureen chuckled. "Brianna and Noelle were about three at the time. Myeko and I brought them over to the main house to ask Leslie something, and there she was out back with Mr. Roarke, having what looked like a tea party with all those entities we always thought were only childhood stories. Not just Santa and the Easter Bunny and all those others, but there were a few more, I think. I know Eros was there, and…hey, wait a minute, there were two flying whatsuses. Cupid was one of them, but I can't remember…"

"The Tooth Fairy," Leslie supplied, still trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, that's right," Maureen and Myeko said in perfect chorus. "The kids just took advantage right off the bat," Maureen added, beginning to grin. "Brianna was making the rounds with Santa and the Easter Bunny, and Noelle climbed right onto Mother Goose's lap and begged to have a story read to her. And there was Eros, trying to hide behind a bench, and when Myeko saw him, her tongue fell out like a carpet unrolling and it took her three days to stuff it back into her mouth."

"Like I said, this was between husbands—way before I met Nick," Myeko said with a smile that was only slightly sheepish. "Clark was drifting away from me, Hachiro had been making one of his periodic halfhearted campaigns for visitation rights, and I was feeling like a worn-out dust mop. So when Eros actually showed interest in me, I had no resistance. It was worth it. It was the best night I ever spent in all my life." She yanked herself erect all of a sudden, meeting each of her friends' gazes in quick succession. "But promise me, you guys, don't you ever tell Nick. I'd never be able to explain it, much less live it down."

"Why, because you just said this one-night stand was better than Nick?" Camille asked, half skeptical, half laughing. "Myeko, you're priceless."

"You realize you've just given us perfect blackmail material," Lauren said.

"Oh, come on," Leslie finally said, unable to hold back her laughter in the end. "That's just cruel. Give the girl a break. She wasn't really attached to anybody, and it's like she said, that Clark Mokuleia had his eye on some other woman. If any one of you claims you'd never have succumbed to the urge if you'd been in her shoes, I won't believe a syllable."

Camille and Lauren shot her mock glares, but they both began to laugh after a moment; Tabitha was already grinning broadly. "Okay, okay," Lauren said, raising her hands in capitulation. "So you saw him at the party last night? Did he recognize you?"

"He never even looked at me," Myeko said, rolling her eyes. "At first I was mad, but then I got sensible after I thought about it. Considering I had Nick and all, well, you know."

"Yeah, we know," Camille agreed. "But if you got mad and then had to think about it, I'm sure Nick noticed and started asking questions."

"I hid it," Myeko said loftily. "Don't forget, I took drama in high school. I learned how not to show my real emotions. Nick never suspected a thing. Although I'm still a little bit bummed that the guy never even knew I was there."

"There were too many people there," Leslie said, "and like you said, he was hanging all over that Russian model. He wouldn't have seen anybody at all, including Father."

"Probably not," Myeko agreed good-naturedly. "So what about all the unattached liabilities in everybody's families, who needed partners? Any success?"

"Phenomenal," Lauren said, chuckling. "Deborah finally did hook up with a guy. His name's Ian Malloy and he's on the island for about three weeks, and it turns out he's a Hollywood hairstylist. Deborah said he's met a whole raft of hot young stars, and that they stayed at the party till four in the morning. When I went in this morning to see if she'd had any luck, she was there, but she was snoring in her styling chair. I had to wake her up and make her tell me about it. Once she was conscious, she wouldn't shut up about him. So my parents have some hope after all."

The girls laughed, and Leslie said, "That's great. Camille, have you heard from Jonathan or Julianne? I saw Julianne a couple times, and it looked as if she'd really hit it off with the DJ Father and I hired for the post-midnight part of the party."

"Yeah, she was there till the very end and said she helped the guy close up shop and get his CDs and stuff packed," said Camille. "I don't think she slept all last night, and she was still going strong when she dropped in at our house this morning after the boys left for school. I guess this Adam Ryerson's just moved to the island and will be on the radio."

"Yeah, he told me he was just hired for a vacant spot there," Leslie said. "What about Jonathan? Did he find anyone?"

"Get this," Lauren said with a laugh. "Brian's niece got together with him. Dania was talking about him this morning as if he was the only thing that ever happened in the world. I think she's smitten. Good thing—it'll be easy to vouch for him when Brian and I have to report back to Jenny and Rodney."

"What about Sayuri?" Tabitha put in. "You mentioned she was going."

Myeko nodded. "She found a very nice Japanese businessman. You know, this is how much I know my little sister these days—she's been taking online courses in Japanese for the last six or seven years now, and never told us about it. It's entirely possible that she could end up with him in Japan. Which would be cool—it'd give us all an excuse to go visit, and it would be my father's first trip back since he left in his teens. He might like it."

"What about your nanny, Leslie?" Tabitha asked. "With any luck, Brian's niece will help Jonathan finish getting over her."

"Her boyfriend came in from Lilla Jordsö and he's staying at the hotel," Leslie said. "I think he leaves this weekend—he couldn't stay long. But I suspect he'll be there for her when she's ready to leave us; they really looked as if they'd connected."

They talked a little more, till eventually Tabitha yawned rather loudly, making her friends freeze with guilt. "We've been in here too long," Maureen immediately said, casting a glance at the wall clock. "I guess we better get going. He's adorable, Tabitha."

Tabitha smiled. "Thanks. I'm just relieved that Rafael and I can go home tomorrow. I can't stand this hospital food."

"Who's gonna cook for you, anyway?" Camille asked.

"Cristina, of course. She's ten, she can handle quite a bit," Tabitha said. "It'll make life with a new baby much easier. Oh, Leslie…I, uh, I heard this morning through the newspaper that Mr. Roarke deported some woman who had brought a stash of black lightning onto the island with her. Is that true?"

"Every word," Leslie said ruefully. "Turns out she was a Brit who's already buried four husbands, and all for the same reason—amakarna poisoning. When Father confronted her this morning and told her that it would be impossible to kill him in that fashion, she just broke right down and confessed everything. She said she's been taking amakarna since her infancy, just like Christian's nieces, and that the first husband's death was an accident. She didn't know anything about the stuff and thought it would be beneficial to his health, so she gave him a little bit with his supper one night. Of course, it killed him. She inherited everything he had, but when she started to run through it, she needed more and ended up making a sort of career out of marrying wealthy guys and then doing them in with amakarna. She's been on black lightning for a few years now, too. Father dispatched a written testimonial with her signature on it to the authorities in London, and when she steps into Heathrow they'll arrest her."

"I thought I saw him dancing with her last night, though," protested Lauren. "And this was shortly before we all left around midnight."

"By then Christian and I had gotten some information and enlightened him as to what the story was. He was lulling her by pretending he knew nothing and asking all sorts of questions designed to bring her out. From what I hear, they worked. This morning he asked her how she got all her energy, and she made the mistake of showing him the black lightning. And when he told her that stuff's illegal and grounds for instant arrest here, she just caved right in. I think maybe she felt guilty the whole time."

"How'd he ever fall under the spell of a woman like that?" Camille asked. "I always figured Mr. Roarke was just…well, you know, not like us."

Leslie grinned. "Normally not, but Cupid told me Father's susceptible to his arrows on Valentine's Day, and he just wanted Father to have fun at his own party."

"But how? Even on Valentine's Day, how?" Myeko persisted.

"Because, very simply, Father's in love with love and everything about it," Leslie told her, smiling. "Which may make him vulnerable, but overall, it's a good thing. Heck, even a guy who grants other people's fantasies needs to have one of his own now and then."

"Sort of like Helena," suggested Lauren. "I still remember that."

Leslie nodded. "Maybe someday he'll find someone he can be happy with for the rest of his life, but till then, Cupid better take care that we don't come after him!"

* * *

_My apologies that it took so long to get this thing written and posted…there's a lot going on in my life now, not the least of which is planning my wedding. I do have an idea for the next tale, so with luck that will go up within another couple of weeks or so (and be completed faster!). Thanks for your patience and all the kind reviews!_


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